RAGNAROK
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Hela and her army of the dead have overtaken Asgard. Loki is forced to surrender his guise as Odin. Thor must battle Hela's champion for the throne—to the death. And Jane Foster is crushed beneath half a ton of concrete and left to die. The dusk of an age has come. Night is falling. It is RAGNAROK. REPOSTED.
1. Chapter 1

Hela and her army of the dead have overtaken Asgard. Loki is forced to surrender his guise as Odin. Thor must battle Hela's champion for the throne—to the death. And Jane Foster is crushed beneath half a ton of concrete and left to die. The dusk of an age has come. Night is falling. It is RAGNAROK. REPOSTED.

Author's Note: Herein, there will be many references to Tolkien (sometimes whole verses or songs), as well as Old-English, Old Norse, and Middle English words. There are also medieval and Middle-English songs used. There is also reference to Beowulf, the oldest written epic in both English and German. They are all real, please look them up for extra fun.

Only kind reviews, please. We're all here for entertainment, after all.

Enjoy!

RAGNAROK

Deep thanks to Madi-solo for the beautiful trailer for this story

RRRRR

"If this is to be our end

Then I would have them make such an end

As to be worthy of

Remembrance."

-Theoden King

The Two Towers

STAVE ONE

Thunder rumbled. It echoed between the stone buildings of Baker Street, in the midst of this ancient Midgardian city known as London. Thor glanced up at the lowering grey sky, taking a deep breath of the moisture and electricity in the air. The roar of the city—still strange to him, even after four years—surrounded him like a pulse. As if he stood within the very heart of a huge, metal-and-stone beast.

His footfalls scraped heavily against the dirty paving. The thunder chuckled again. He halfway smiled as he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, the wind picking up and whistling down the alley.

Ahead and to the right, he caught sight of the corner of the building where Jane lived. She did not occupy all of it—just an upper portion she called a "flat." And she had rented this particular "flat" because it apparently occupied a space on this street that was near the supposed dwelling of a famous detective of olden times. Thor didn't particularly see the appeal—he could barely squeeze through the door. His own house here in London was much larger, nearer Hyde Park…

Though still not airy and vaulted like his golden chambers in Asgard, with tall windows open to the gardens, misty purple mountains beyond, and the scent of lilac and rose drifting through the curtains…

Thor shook himself and lowered his head, drawing up alongside Jane's pale building.

And he felt it.

Something tingled upon the backs of his hands, and down his neck.

He stopped.

The air had fallen still—but high, high above, the clouds roiled, and darkened. A chill cooled his skin. He narrowed his eyes, and slowly turned around.

The long, narrow alley behind him stood empty. Nothing stirred. And the traffic noise quieted…

As if the whole of London held its breath.

Then…

Wind.

It started as a low, restless breeze, then snarled down the alleyway, tossing trash and leaves ahead of it. It built in strength, snatching at Thor's clothes and long hair. The clouds turned to black. The street lamps flickered on.

Thor drew his hands out of his pockets, his heartbeat picking up. The wind began to swirl in one place, fifty paces ahead of him in the alley. Mist gathered in its binding, and leaves and papers lashed the alley walls. The pillar of cloud grew dark, sprouting roots that spread like tentacles across the paving.

Suddenly, the reek of rotting corpses rolled across Thor, driving him back three steps.

He flung off his jacket, exposing his red Asgardian tunic. Quickly, he slapped his shoulders with his hands…

And his armor bloomed across his chest, rippled down his arms, encased his legs, and billowed out behind him in a scarlet cape—all rattling and jingling like summer rain. Mjollnir's heavy weight slapped into his right hand and he curled his fingers tight around the leather, feeling the very metal of the hammer thrum in its depths.

The dark mist ahead of him solidified, intensified. Took shape. A winsome form, as tall as he—but lithe as a blade. He could soon make out the dangerous curves of a woman.

And then, with an icy rush, the fog blew away…

Revealing she who wore a battle suit of wrapped midnight edged in silver, with

raven hair hanging like a torn veil around her snow-white face. Black was the skin around her eyes, making her sharpened features ghastly as a skull.

She carried no weapon. And yet Thor felt a horrid dread crawl through him as that stench filled his throat.

Her pale lips smiled. But she said nothing.

Thor never tore his eyes from her.

"Who are you?" he asked. His rough voice carried through the silence. Far overhead, a deep crackle snickered through the clouds.

"I ought to ask who you are," the stranger replied, her tone like the surface of a dark lake, her grey eyes luminous. "The only son of Odin, past the age of inheritance…and yet he wears no crown." She slowly tilted her head. "Banished, but redeemed to honor—and yet he has abandoned his duties." Her gaze narrowed. "Can it be he has forgotten how to love his kingdom? Or perhaps his power is indeed not great enough to rule?" Her voice softened to a lethal whisper. "Perhaps he is not even a prince after all."

 _"Who are you?"_ Thor demanded.

The smile faded from her face. And with the voice of the winter wind—thin and cutting to the bone—she began to sing an eerie tune.

 _"A youth walked out, one day, one day_

 _And met a woman by the way_

 _Her head was black, her eyes were grey_

 _Her clothing made of the cold earthen clay…_ "

She stepped toward him. Thor trembled, a cold sweat breaking out upon his hands and neck—and he gripped Mjollnir tighter.

 _"He said, 'Woman, what one are you?_

 _What country do you belong unto?"_ she sang, the wind building around her hands, the thunder mounting in the skies.

" _My name is Death—hast heard of me_

 _All kings and princes bow down unto me._

 _And you, fair youth…must come along with me._ "

Her eyes blazed. A fiendish grin flashed across her face.

Thor leaned back and hurled Mjollnir at her with all his strength.

It slashed through the air, cracking like a whip—

She flung out her arm—

And caught it.

Her fingers wrapped around its head, its mighty weight shivering in her grasp.

Thor staggered upon the end of his throw, staring—feeling the earth tip beneath him.

Death gazed past the shaking hammer, directly into his eyes.

And then…

She squeezed.

As if she were breaking an egg, Mjollnir crushed in her hand—

Flindering apart and shattering to the pavement.

The great handle tumbled onto a pile of ash.

And there, by the will of a finger and thumb, lay the invincible, immortal Thundercall—the hammer forged in the very depths of a star. The weapon Thor had wielded as his own arm since boyhood.

Utterly riven. And utterly dead.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

STAVE TWO

"The wind was on the withered heath,  
But in the forest stirred no leaf:  
There shadows lay be night or day,  
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,  
And like a tide it roared and rolled.  
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,  
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;  
All movement in the forest ceased.  
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,  
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,  
The reeds were rattling-on it went.  
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,  
Where racing clouds were torn and rent."

-the Hobbit

Berulf stopped on the rampart. He'd been patrolling since dawn, back and forth upon this wall, above the central courtyard before the palace of Asgard. All around him the city had awakened, the market had bustled, the byways had filled with colorful people and animals noisily trundling all manner goods through the stone streets, their shouts, footsteps and laughter echoing through the narrow spaces. The sun had risen upon the towering spires of the palace behind him, glinting against the massive struts of polished gold, and shining in the frothing spills of the thousand waterfalls that tumbled from the fortress' feet. Now, it was midday, close to the time Berulf should be relieved by another guard…

But something in the brilliance above him had grown dim. He glanced up, eying the sky…

And saw a thin veil of clouds creeping across the face of the sun, hiding the far-distant stars.

A breath of wind reached him—wind from the west, and the sea. A chill wind that didn't match the warm autumn day. He shifted his spear in his hand, lowered his head, and peered that direction, out past the spreading city—the gardens, the fisheries, the harbor walls—to the looming statues that flanked the long stretch of the Asbru bridge.

And he saw it.

A storm gathering at the very stargate of the Asbru—black, seething clouds that snarled with green lightning.

Berulf turned and broke into a run.

He dashed down the rampart, his gold armor jingling with each step, darted up the stairs and plunged into a half corridor, racing past alabaster columns, their shadows flashing across his strides.

He reached an arched door at the end and bolted inside, turned left, and found a set of carven double doors watched by two guards.

"Open in the name of the king!" he demanded, his voice ringing through the chamber. Immediately, the two guards snatched at the door handles and heaved. Berulf strode through before they had finished.

He stopped inside one of the royal council chambers—circular, with wide windows facing west, carpeted in scarlet. At the far end stood the king's oaken desk, covered in papers and seals and brass instruments. At the moment, the master healer, Eir, with her fire-red hair bound up and her long white robe trailing behind her, stood before the desk, whilst the king, Odin All-Father, garbed in dark purple, stood on the other side of it, holding a piece of paper.

"I will certainly see what I can do," the king said. "Perhaps a party can be sent to the eastern wilds to retrieve these herbs—but not without warriors, as the lands that way are crawling with goblins."

"Can a party be sent today?" Eir asked. "One of my patients is—"

"Forgive me my lady; Your Majesty," Berulf inclined his head. "But I must interrupt. Your Majesty, I beg you to turn and look out your window."

Odin's one eye flashed, and he turned to follow Berulf's instruction.

Then, he went still.

"What…" he whispered, then slowly stepped up to the window and gazed out at the black clouds Berulf had first sighted.

The clouds that had now swallowed the entirety of the Asbru bridge.

"What is it?" Eir asked, drawing up next to Odin. Then, she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Where is Heimdall?" Odin asked.

"We've had no word from him, sir," Berulf answered.

"Berulf, sound the alarm," Odin said quietly. "Assemble the first battalion and the palace guard at Loki's Forum. Give instruction that the Warriors Three and Lady Sif are to remain where they are."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Berulf thumped his breastplate with his fist, turned on his heel and hurried out of the room, down several more passages until he came to the Horn Room. There, he strode past three more guards, ascended two steps and grasped the mouthpiece of the great Horn of Borr Skjǫldrhǫnd that had been built into one of the outer walls of the palace. He drew in a deep breath, put his mouth to the piece, and blew with all his strength.

A deep, throaty bellow boomed from the heights of the horn, resounding out over the city, trembling the stones at its feet. Berulf spent all his breath, sending the long call out to the mountains, then withdrew with a gasp.

"You three, come with me," he pointed at the guards. "We're needed at the Magic-Maker's Forum."

RRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Odin, clad in his armor but without his helmet, and Gungnir in his left hand, stepped out onto the platform at the rear of Loki's Forum. Before him stood his entire first battalion and palace guard, their armor, shields and spears shining even in the dimness, their backs to him. The only break in their ranks was an ancient tree that lived in the center of the forum, which had been planted by the king's late second-son in boyhood.

Across from Odin stood the empty stone stage, where Prince Loki used to conduct his lectures to the handful of talented magic-workers and apprentice healers. Beyond it lay a broad expanse affording a wide view of the sea and the Asbru—all now obscured by a thick wall of menacing clouds.

Odin could feel the air crackling—a deep, subtle hum in the stones beneath his feet. He set the heel of Gungnir upon a slab of rock, lifted his chin, and waited.

But he did not wait long.

Strange shapes began to materialize within the fog. Faces, without eyes. Or flesh.

A sickly emerald glow radiated from their haggard, gaping features as they pressed through the mist and stepped out upon the forum stage. All armored, the metal dulled and rusted. All grinning—lipless, cheek-less. Helmed and armed with ancient swords. Breath rattling between bare ribs. Ripped strands of ghostly hair wafting in an unfelt, infernal breeze.

An army of the dead.

And with them pooled a stench of rotting flesh and weeks-old carrion that slithered down the stairs and invaded the ranks of Asgard, making the soldiers yelp and pull back, their hands shivering on their shields.

Odin did not move.

As if a breath of wind had disturbed a marsh, the deathly army parted in the center, and a new figure emerged. Clad in black and silver, her black hair ragged about her white face, shadow surrounding her glowing grey eyes. She stepped gracefully out upon the stage, and stopped, casting her gaze across the army.

The men of Asgard lifted their spears, aiming at her—holding their breath.

"I thought you should be pleased to see me again," the woman smiled quietly. "But perhaps none of you here yet remember my name."

"Hela Dǫuðarorð," Odin spoke evenly into the silence. "The Death-Tiding. We remember your name. Though it is not a welcome one within the gates of Asgard."

"And yet I have passed through your gates, unhindered," Hela replied. "I have come, Odin, son of Borr. And today, Asgard is dead."

A ripple raced through the ranks of men. But Hela did not even look at them. Her gaze fixed across at Odin.

"Such a declaration will not go unchallenged," Odin replied calmly. "And before you take another step into my realm, you shall deal with _me,_ foul-bringer."

Hela did not reply. She stood, completely still, for several moments.

Then, she turned, reached behind her into the fog, grasped something—

And hurled a tall man out from the black mist and onto his face on the stage.

A young, strong, broad-shouldered man, wearing a ripped red tunic and blue trousers, his golden hair loose and wild around his face. He groaned, struggling to climb to his knees, but could only manage to rise to all fours.

The men of Asgard gasped. Odin's hold on Gungnir faltered.

The young man lifted his face. Part of his beard had been torn and blood ran down his cheeks. Brilliant blue eyes rose, and cut across the distance, finding Odin in an instant.

"Thor," Odin whispered.

"You shall not engage me in a fruitless battle, Borrson," Hela declared loudly. "But you shall treat with me as ruler of Asgard, lest I take off his head before you now." Her right hand flashed—and a long, wicked sword appeared in her grasp. With one swift movement, she laid it against the back of Thor's neck.

"No!" Odin shouted.

Hela's head came up. The army flinched.

Hela smiled.

"No," Odin said, quieter, his bones shaking deep within him. He lifted his right hand. "Come in, Hela Death-Tiding. Come in, and we will speak. But spare…my son."

Hela did not move. Neither did Thor. The entire assembly stood frozen.

Then, Hela flicked her wrist, and the sword disappeared. Odin risked a short breath…

Hela clapped her hands.

A deep _thud_ beat through Odin's chest—his vision rippled, the air quaked.

And every last soldier in the square fell down dead.

Shields bashed to the ground, spears toppled like timber. Armor clattered and breath rushed out in a last and violent sigh.

Odin stared, unmoving. Thor's wide, stunned eyes stared—and startled tears spilled down his cheeks.

Hela smiled.

"And _now_ , Odin Borrson," she said. "You shall come inside with _me_ , and treat with your dróttning."

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

STAVE THREE

"Oh, but you are alone.

Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness,

in the bitter watches of the night,

when all your life seems to shrink,

the walls of your bower closing in about you?"

-Grima Wormtongue, The Two Towers

Jane squeezed the jagged rock in her left hand—squeezed it harder than she had a thousand times before. Gritted her teeth, swallowed another scream, and forced in a jolting breath of dusty air.

"Come…on, Jane. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe," she croaked. Tears cut trails in the dirt across her face. She lay in complete blackness, halfway on her right side, her left arm stretched out, part of her back and legs pinned beneath half a ton of concrete. A whole shelf of stone covered her, hanging over her just feet above her head, just waiting to give way and crush her. She could dully feel something cold and hard jabbing into her lower back…

But she couldn't sense her legs at all.

"Come on, Jane," she gritted to herself again, squeezing her eyes shut, her right cheek pressed against something that felt like brick. "Come on, Jane. Breathe…"

She had just eaten breakfast in her new Baker Street flat, finished her tea, brushed her teeth and gone into her room—she'd changed out of her pajamas and into some jeans, boots and a light, grey knitted sweater…

When the floor had shivered…

Split in half—

And fallen out from underneath her.

The entire building had collapsed—a roaring, bending, crashing, cracking chaos all around her—she'd screamed as she'd battered helplessly down through layers of sheetrock, brick and wood. She'd slammed into a stone floor and then…

The roof had come down on her like the hand of a giant.

"Come on…He'll…He'll be here soon…" Jane whispered, grinding the rock into the floor. That rock: the only thing she could reach, no matter how far and hard she stretched. Dust caught in her throat—she couldn't pull any more breath. Every muscle broke out in violent shivering.

"Gaaaa- _aah!"_ she cried, a broken sob tearing through her. "Help me!" she wept into the darkness, tears streaming down her face. _"Please!_ Please, somebody…somebody _help me…!"_

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Thor crashed onto his hands and knees again, blood dripping from his mouth onto the cream-colored, polished marble floors of one of his father's minor audience chambers. Hela's black presence loomed over him, her stench choking him. He glanced up to see his father's boots cross the circular room, passing white pillars, to stop near the golden throne. But he didn't sit down. Thor lifted his head just enough to see his father's weathered face.

Odin gazed at Hela, Gungnir held casually in his right hand. His armor gleamed in the torchlight—for outside, it was now as dark as night.

"Tell me, Hela," Odin began. "What is it that you want?"

"You know very well what I want," Hela replied. "I want what is rightfully mine, and now I have it. You need only order the people to swear fealty to me, and they shall be spared. But of course…" her voice lowered like a serpent. "I will then slay you upon the ramparts to seal my rule."

"Why not simply murder me where I stand and tell the people you have defeated me?" Odin countered.

"It must be legitimate!" Hela suddenly roared, shaking the stones. "I desire the crown and rightly—All must be done with the full power of the deep laws of the realm! I shall have no cunning nor trickery, nor the slightest deceit, do you understand me?"

Odin watched her…

Then slowly raised his eyebrows.

"Well," he said—his voice suddenly lighter, and smoother. "Then I'm afraid you've come at a bad time."

Thor instantly frowned. Odin's appearance shimmered, like sunlight upon water…

And all at once, the king dissolved…

And in his place stood a handsome, lean, clean-shaven young man with pale skin, jet-raven hair and vivid emerald eyes, wearing the clothing of a riding archer, emblazoned subtly with the runes and spells of a magician and master healer. He smirked at Hela. But then, for just an instant—

His gaze met Thor's.

"Loki!" Thor gasped, clawing his way to his knees, his heart bashing against his breastbone.

Loki instantly turned from him, regarding Hela again.

"Loki?" Hela spat. "The Jotun changeling whelp Odin picked up off the floor of Laufey's temple?" She took a step toward Loki. "Why are _you_ wearing Odin's guise?"

"I regret to inform you that Odin isn't here at the moment," Loki replied lightly. "In fact, nobody seems to know _where_ he is. So I'm filling in for a bit, in his stead."

Hela let out a poisonous hiss through her teeth. Thor's pulse jolted—he fought to make his trembling muscles carry him to his feet—

Loki suddenly slapped Gungnir into his left hand—and the brilliant staff let out a menacing growl, its sharp tip flashing like starlight.

Hela stopped.

"Have a care, witch," Loki warned. "I'm not altogether as ignorant as you might think."

Hela's fingers fluttered thoughtfully. Thor stayed on his knees, closing his hands to fists, watching without breathing.

"You and I could make a terrible mess of things, and each other," Loki continued, his voice as smooth as polished stone. "But for the sake of the lives of the people of Asgard…" He lifted his chin. "I have a proposition for you."

"What proposition?" Hela bit out. "That I stake your head on a gibbet at the front of your forum?"

"That wouldn't exactly help the legitimacy of your cause, now would it?" Loki lifted his eyebrows. "However, there is a secondary law you might exploit if you were willing to take the time."

Hela said nothing. Thor ground his teeth, and made himself stay still.

"And what is that?" Hela asked, tilting her head.

"In the absence or incapacitation of the seated king," Loki began. "The acting king and the challenger for the throne may each fight for himself, _or_ choose a champion to compete in single combat to the death in a public arena."

"The deep laws would only partly be satisfied," Hela countered, her eyes narrow.

"Yes, if my champion were merely a citizen of Asgard," Loki admitted. "But not if he were heir to the throne."

Thor's eyes went wide. Loki glanced at him, just for an instant.

Thor's mouth opened—

"Heir against heir," Hela breathed. "My son against your prince."

Loki's eyes narrowed this time.

"Your son?"

"My son Fenris," Hela replied—and Thor could _feel_ her smile. "Before the sight of all my people, and the people of Asgard." Slowly, she nodded her head. "Yes. A true defeat. One of honor—and to end the male line of Borr."

Loki smirked again.

"It's all one to me, frankly," he said. "I'll serve king or queen with equal enthusiasm—I simply have no fondness for the idea of my head on a gibbet."

Hela snorted. Loki relaxed his grip on Gungnir.

"You are welcome to the royal chambers and feasting halls. I'll have my men put the prince in the dungeons," Loki offered.

"No need," Hela said, snatching the back of Thor's hair in a vise grip. "I know the way."

And before Thor could let out even a howl of protest, Hela had dragged him away from Loki and out of the chamber.

 _To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

STAVE FOUR

"All that is gold does not glitter

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost."

-The Lord of the Rings

Hela flung Thor down on the cold stone floor of the prison. His muscles quivered, and he could barely push himself up on his hands and knees. His head reeled from what he'd just seen, but all of it jumbled together like a horrifying, nonsensical nightmare.

Dry teeth clattered together behind him, and that nauseating stench covered him in waves. He fought to swallow, to crawl away…

"Hold him," Hela snapped. "He's yet to fight, but he is mine. We shall mark him so."

Fleshless hands snatched at his clothes—bone-fingers grabbed him and jerked him around to face Hela, on his knees. Her ghostly, bony warriors, their armor rattling, rasped grating words in lost languages to their queen as their fingers clenched like iron around Thor's arms.

Hela gazed down at Thor, her lip curling. Then, she drew a short, gleaming knife from her belt. She stepped crisply forward, took hold of a fistful of Thor's hair, and sliced it off.

"No!" Thor howled, twisting away from her.

She struck his face. It felt like he'd been hit with a frozen rock. His vision spun, and blood leaked from his lips.

"Silence, _þræll_ ," Hela muttered, taking another fistful of his hair and cutting through it as if it were nothing. Thor squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth, tears streaming down his face as she roughly cropped off all his hair, and it tumbled off his shoulders to the floor.

When at last she had shorn him, she reached down and picked up the long tresses and bound them with a thin piece of leather, and tied it to her belt.

"Put him in a cell," she ordered her men. "He will keep there well enough."

And with tears dripping from his beard, Thor was dragged up into a cell and thrown to the floor. The shield buzzed to life, the dead soldiers hissed in laughter and departed, leaving him alone and bound only with silence.

RRRRRRRRRR

Thor sat on the bench in his bare white cell, his head in his hands. His trembling fingers running back and forth, back and forth, searching…

Always meeting with the same strange, rough sensation. And a cold emptiness around his neck and crown. His muscles hurt, his eyes ached. Tears had already run down his cheeks until they dried. And still, he sat in his silent cell, listening to the dull thrum of the glowing gold shields. The palace above him sat quiet as a massive sepulcher, the air wet and wintry.

Something. Someone. In the shadows of the corridor. A presence that moved without making a sound.

Thor lifted his head, slowly lowering his hands.

"Who is there?" he demanded. "I know you're there—show yourself."

No one responded for a moment.

Then, one lean shadow cautiously split from the rest, and drifted out into the light.

That young, clean-shaven, black-haired man, clad in those archer's clothes. His face paler than before, his bright green eyes more striking. His gaze caught on Thor's, and he stared back at him. Then, almost accidentally, he offered a faint smile.

"Hello, brother," he murmured—in a voice more familiar than Thor's own. Then, his eyebrows drew together in soft alarm. "She's cut your hair."

Thor's brow snarled.

 _"You_ are _not_ my brother."

The other man's gaze flickered.

"Am I not?"

"My _brother_ ," Thor bit out. "Is _dead_. He sacrificed his life for mine on Svartalfheim. _You,_ whatever you are, are a usurper and a liar." Thor stood to his feet, ignoring the trembling in his legs. "What have you done with my father?"

"Thor, it's me," the man insisted, taking a step toward him. "Let me prove it to you."

"Stop!" Thor thundered, holding up a hand. "I cannot trust a word you say—not when you're trying to deceive me by looking like him—torment me by taking on the form of someone I loved." Thor's shaking hands closed to fists. "My brother would never let me be shamed like this—" He raked his hands through his short hair. "He would _never_ surrender the throne of Asgard to that witch, nor gamble _my life_ in some cowardly play for power!"

The other man just watched him.

"What choice did I have?" the other man asked finally, holding his hands out to his sides. "Odin isn't here. He vanished nearly four years ago. I had to assume his likeness because you had gone to Midgard and no one here would have listened to me. But _someone_ had to be king." The other man lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. "You have to understand, Thor. This sorceress cannot be withstood—not with brute force or even argument. She can kill you with a _look_. Anyone with a heartbeat. And she's older and far more cunning than you can imagine." The young man glanced back up the corridor, frowned, then turned his attention back to Thor.

"So what do you intend to do, then?" Thor barked. "Pretend to be my dead brother until the battle is over and then join sides with whoever is victorious?"

The other man watched Thor gravely.

"I've already chosen a side," he replied quietly. "And I have no intention of watching you die."

Thor's chest ached and his brow twisted, his fists trembling.

The other man lifted his head.

"Don't you remember?" he whispered. "For as long as the East stands across from the West…you will be my brother."

Thor took a step back, violently swiping at his eyes—

"No—you're not him. You are not _him_ —"

The next moment, something flashed—

And Loki strode up into the cell, crossed the space between them in two steps and threw his arms around Thor, wrapping one around his neck and the other around his waist.

Thor staggered back, choking. He felt Loki bury his face in his neck, binding him close. Thor's arms came up, but he couldn't fathom what to do. It _felt_ like him, it _smelled_ like him—like night wind, frost, and oak…

Loki backed up enough to grip Thor's left shoulder, and reached inside the back of his own collar to hook his fingers through a chain and quickly lift it out. A pendant sparkled from the chain and Loki caught it, holding it up for Thor to see.

A Mjollnir pendant, by a silver chain.

"You remember?" Loki said roughly. "You gave this to me the day you fell down a hole and nearly ripped my arm off."

Thor lifted his trembling left hand and touched the pendant, his vision blurring.

"I…I made this for you."

"Yes, you did," Loki laughed—and beamed a brilliant grin. "I remember being astonished."

Thor nodded and let out a watery chuckle…

Then covered his eyes with his hand as new, hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

Loki gently took Thor's head in his hands, and pressed a kiss to his fevered forehead. Then, he wrapped him up in his arms again, all strength and safety and quiet. Whilst Thor, the thunder-hammer, wept into his brother's shoulder, feeling as if he might collapse with heartbroken relief.

For a long while they just stood there, saying nothing, Thor's arms weakly encircling Loki's chest. Absently, Thor noted a dulling of the details of the world all around them, as if a cloaking spell enveloped them. But he didn't bother puzzling with it. He just laid his head on Loki's shoulder and shut his eyes, his muscles like water.

"I can feel you shaking," Loki murmured, drawing back but holding on to Thor's upper arms. "What did she do to you?"

"I don't know," Thor sighed, too weary to wipe away his tears. "She caught me in a back pathway between buildings on Baker Street in London. I summoned my armor and threw Mjollnir at her…" He met Loki's eyes. "She caught it. And she broke it with one hand."

Loki said nothing. Just minutely lifted one eyebrow.

"Then she struck me so hard I swear I felt my heart stop," Thor continued, reflexively pressing a hand to his chest. "I lay on the ground, seeing nothing, feeling nothing—and when I awoke, my armor had gone. And she stood over me with a knife. I thought she was going to kill me. But instead, she destroyed my tunic—and took my armor from me, too."

"Mhm," Loki mused, glancing down. But he didn't let go of Thor.

"But that is not the worst," Thor continued, gasping. Loki's attention flashed to him.

"What is it?"

"Jane," Thor gripped Loki's elbows now. "This witch knew which building Jane lives in—she stood with her foot on my chest and she called down a terrible wind that smashed the building. Jane is underneath all that stone—"

"Won't the men of Midgard help her?" Loki cut in. Thor shook his head.

"No—the witch put a spell on the building," he said. "To the eyes of any Midgardian, it looks as if it still stands."

Loki paused a moment, as if letting that sink through him. Finally, he spoke.

"What would you have me do?"

"Go to her," Thor gripped him harder. "Go to her, rescue her."

"And do what?" Loki cried. "Bring her _here?"_

"You can hide her!" Thor insisted. "Eir and Sif and Volstaag and the others will help you—"

"I'd rather not call them in," Loki shook his head. "They're hiding in the outskirts of the city and they're much safer—"

"Loki, please," Thor stopped him. "I cannot pass from realm to realm like you can—without being seen. No one else can do this."

Loki studied Thor's face, one eyebrow lifted earnestly. Finally, he nodded, and gave a short sigh of resignation.

"I'll go at once."

"Thank you," Thor breathed, feeling faint. He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet.

"Wait, wait. Stop this," Loki insisted. He grabbed both of Thor's hands, lifted them and pressed his palms to Thor's, and interlaced their fingers. Then, Loki squeezed hard…

And a deep _flash_ rang through Thor's mind.

His shaking stopped. Strength surged through his muscles and bones. His head cleared.

His eyes flew open.

"What was that?" he gasped. Loki let go of him.

"She put a _Harmr_ spell on you," Loki answered. "You should have remembered it from school."

"That was rather a long time ago," Thor smiled crookedly.

 _"I_ remember," Loki answered flippantly, backing away.

"That's because you're brilliant," Thor chuckled.

Loki stopped, and gave Thor an entirely different look than he was expecting. He lowered his head, and held Thor's gaze.

"I love you, bróðir," he said. "And I shall come back."

He lifted his hands—

 _Clapped—_

And disappeared.

 _To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

STAVE FIVE

"I dreamed I saw a great wave climbing over green lands

and above the hills.

I stood upon the brink.

It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet.

A light shone behind me, but I could not turn.

I could only stand there...

waiting."

-Eowyn, Return of the King

Jane's consciousness faded in and out. Her breathing came in short jerks—she blinked dully, noticing no difference between when her eyes were closed and when they were open. She'd let go of that rock ages ago, her fingers stretching weakly into the empty blackness, memorizing the cuts and grooves in the jagged rock floor.

"Hushabye, don't you cry…Go to sleep, little baby," she rasped, only breathing enough air to whisper past her lips. "When you wake…you shall have all the pretty little horses…Blacks and bays, dapples and greys…coach and six of little horses…"

She couldn't feel anything except her shoulders, head and left arm, now. Dust coated her lips, and her throat was dry. She tapped her thumb against the cement, her eyes drifting shut.

"…coach and six…of little horses…" she sighed.

A light.

A very little light—like a candle. It wandered across some flat surface far to her left, along the floor. Meandering and slipping from stone to broken stone. Jane swallowed, forcing her eyes open…

"Mmm…" she grunted, though hardly any sound came out. "Help…I'm…I'm…I'm…"

The wandering light halted. Took on a bright green tinge—and froze there. As if listening.

"I'm…I'm…Help…" Jane called, completely hoarse.

Movement.

The ball of light flared through the three-foot space between the floor and the huge slab of cement above Jane's head and sped toward her. It flashed like a fairy, blinding her—

Then lingered just above her forehead. Jane blinked rapidly, battling to focus…

A loud scraping, skidding sound as someone followed that light, falling onto his back and sliding into the space.

A reaching hand slapped down on top of hers. Warm, long, soft, and strong. Jane twitched—

The next instant, the face belonging to that hand came into the light. A full arm's length away—but she could see him.

Familiar. Handsome and angular, long black hair falling across his pale forehead. Vivid emerald eyes, dark eyebrows raised in searching.

That image suddenly bled into ferocious memories: scraping and scrambling in the black dust of a foreign world—his arm bound around her waist, pulling her to him; his body falling in a protective cage over her as an explosion cracked the air; his terrified glance meeting hers just before he flung her to the ground and leaped in the way of a crushing grenade…

A monster ramming a blade through his chest and tossing him back onto the dirt…Thor begging him to stay with him as he lay stiffly in his arms, whispering about forgotten regrets…

His emerald eyes closing, his breath leaving—Thor letting out a visceral howl.

Him lying limply in the dust as it shrouded him, burying him forever.

"Loki," Jane mouthed, her eyebrows drawing together. "Loki?"

His image in front of her clarified—and he smiled ruefully.

"Yes—you may have heard of me."

Jane's lip trembled.

Loki's brow instantly furrowed earnestly, and he scooted closer to her.

"What do we have here, Jane Foster?" he asked, trying to peer across her body by the light of his little floating lamp.

"I'm dead," she mouthed again, unable to summon any sound.

"What was that?" he asked, pulling up right in front of her and twisting tightly onto his side to face her.

"I'm dead…" her mouth barely moved, her vision hazy around the edges.

"No, you're not," Loki shook his head. "Because _I'm_ not, and I'm here to get you out of this."

"Mm," she hummed, her breath low and rapid like a bird's.

The concrete above them gave a deep, ominous moan. Loki frowned, shooting it a glance.

"That isn't ideal," he muttered. He quickly let go of Jane's hand and snapped his fingers. A thick band of blue lightning suddenly leaped to life between his palms, and he grabbed it as if it were an iron bar. Grimacing, he pushed it up past their heads and then braced it between the floor and the slab of concrete, sticking it firmly in place.

"That ought to hold everything for a bit, whilst I deduce our problem," Loki decided, panting with the effort. Then he released the brace and attended to Jane again, shifting closer. He dipped his head, trying to get her to look at him. When she managed to find his eyes, he gave her a small smile.

"I'm going to reach around you, since I can't exactly see what's happened," he said. "But we're fairly well acquainted already, aren't we?"

Jane tried to smile but couldn't. Loki took hold of Jane's left hand in his and squeezed it, and then reached around her waist, swiftly and carefully probing with his hand through the dark, up and down her sweater.

"Can you feel that?" he asked. "Can you feel my hand between your shoulder blades, there?"

"No," Jane whispered. Loki frowned and shifted again, scooting down so his face was level with hers. His face tightened with concentration and his gaze distanced. Jane watched him absently, wondering at the light playing across his eyes…

He went still. His gaze suddenly flew to hers.

"Can you feel that?"

"What?" she breathed.

He blinked—and his brow twisted with realization as he searched her face.

"Jane…" he said softly. "You have two pieces of iron…in your back. They've…they've gone _into_ your back." She felt him squeeze her hand harder. "You truly cannot feel it?"

"I can't feel it," she murmured, her thoughts drifting off.

She saw Loki swallow. He pulled even closer to her, wrapping his arm around her, holding her gaze with his.

"All right then," he said. "Tell me something while I work."

"What?" Jane wondered, faraway.

"Anything you can think of," Loki offered, adjusting his grip on something behind her. "Think, and talk to me, and don't mind what I'm doing."

"I…" Jane blinked slowly. "I want to be buried in the…in the little church by the river with my family. I want Father Brian to…I want red roses and a white casket…" Her eyes drifted shut again.

"No, no, no, no, _alskling_ … _!"_ Loki instantly grabbed her hand hard and tightened his arm around her. Jane's breaths started coming short and quick.

"No, don't…don't," Loki scolded. "Listen to me, Jane—you have to open your eyes—"

Jane's expression broke and she suddenly gasped out a wrenching sob. Tears rolled down her face and her entire body quivered.

"Loki, help me!" she keened, her voice shaking so badly. "I'm so scared, I don't want to die—"

"You aren't going to die!" Loki cried, letting go of her back and snatching at her face with his right hand. His fingers felt hot and slick—but she opened her eyes and found his right in front of her, even as he slid his hand behind her neck and shook her.

"Listen to me, Jane—"

A panicked gasp tore through her and she felt her heartbeat pick up to an uncontrollable pace. Her eyes went wide, she choked and fumbled for his collar, more tears spilling as she shook her head.

"No, _listen_ ," Loki ordered—pressed his lips to her forehead and tied her up in his arms. "I am claiming you from her—I am _not_ letting her take you," he hissed against her skin. _"Listen_."

And suddenly, a powerful, steady heartbeat surrounded her, thudding through her bones.

"Borrow mine," he breathed—his voice reverberating through her mind. _"Listen."_

Jane felt herself shaking so hard she thought she'd break apart—but that heartbeat overwhelmed her, melting into her…

Until her shaking subsided. Loki drew a deep breath—and so did she. As if he was breathing for her.

Tingling sensations jolted up and down her back and arms, but nothing below her waist. Another breath—he pulled it in, and she felt it fill her lungs. Her frantic heartbeat slowed. Gained power.

"Come with me," his voice rang through her head—though he barely whispered. His arms drew her closer to him…

She held onto him…

And three things came loose of her.

Her body went limp—like a clipped marionette. Her head lolled back. Darkness swelled across her mind…

 _"Listen_ ," came the breathed command.

The heartbeat came again. The unison breath.

And then a sudden flash—and blackness.

 _To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

STAVE SIX

"The fires of Isengard will spread,

and the forests of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn.

And all that was once green and good in this world

,jwill be gone."

-Merry, The Two Towers

 _Flash._

Loki opened his eyes. Glanced around the dark chamber.

" _Kveykva,_ " he murmured, and the lamps and chandelier leaped to life.

A green and black chamber—emerald wallpaper with floral designs, a large ebony-wood bed with green blankets and curtains. A wardrobe to the right, dresser to the left, a couch, chairs, small table, trunks and books stacked everywhere, and thick carpet on the floor.

No one—including himself—had entered these chambers in four years.

He glanced down.

He held Jane Foster almost upright against him, her arms loose around his neck and her head on his shoulder, his left arm wrapped around her back, his right arm hooked down around her knees. Swiftly, he crossed the room, cautiously turned her, and laid her on her left side on the bed. She wasn't conscious. He carefully lifted her head and pulled a pillow under it so she could rest on it, then stroked the stray strands of her dirty, bloody hair away from her ash-covered face. Then, he slowly sat down on a short stool next to the bed, and looked at her by the light of the bedside lamp.

He could feel it all, still. Almost as vividly as when he had thrown all caution and method to the wind and recklessly pulled her into himself, pouring heart magick down through her frame and receiving back, like a searing flame, the sensation of each and every one of her wounds.

Loki's gaze now wandered the length of her slight, blood-soaked body, frowning with a dull pain. It had faded now, but still he knew every shattering within her—intimately. In his legs, his ribs, his right arm, his back…

His right ankle. There, most of all.

He glanced down at his hands. Covered in her blood. Blood that also marred her face where he had touched her, smeared through dust and tears.

He closed his hands and took a deep breath.

Jane took a deep breath, too.

He glanced up at her, grim and set.

"Well," he murmured. "That's it, then."

RRRRRRRRRRR

Loki stood on the balcony overlooking his forum, wrapped in a long cloak of Odin's. He usually wasn't one for feeling the cold—but this was different. This cold penetrated to the bone, no matter what he was wearing, and coated the walls and pillars of Asgard with a thin layer of frost.

It had to be late afternoon, but no light shone from the sky. Darkness like night buried all the stars and the sun, and the only illumination came from the sickly green torches that Hela's men had lit all throughout the city. No citizen of Asgard strayed out any door, and so Hela's army oozed and drifted through the streets like an eerie green river, grinding their dry teeth and muttering songs so strange and ancient that Loki had never heard them. One battalion passed by just below him, their boots and armor rattling, their breath rasping as they sang.

" _And Dethe says: On the thou must take a longe Iourney  
Therefore thy boke of counte wilt the thou brynge  
For turne agayne thou can not by no waye  
And loke thou be sure of thy rekenynge  
For before God thou shalt answere and shewe  
Thy many badde dedes and good but a fewe  
How thou hast spente thy lyfe and in what wyse  
Before the chefe lorde of paradyse  
Haue I do we were in that waye  
For wete thou well you shalt make none attournay…_"

Loki lifted his eyes past them, past his forum where the first battalion of Asgard

still lay dead where they had fallen—to the far end, past the gate, to Odin's Courtyard. Hela's army massed there, in seething ranks, around the feet of the noble, ancient statues of Buri, Borr, Odin, Vili, Ve, Bestla and Frigga. Loki watched, unmoving.

Hela mounted the platform before the feet of Buri—a great, bearded man wielding a long-handled hammer. She held up her hands, and the hissing quieted.

"Long have the people of Asgard oppressed us," Hela spoke out, her voice ringing against stone. "Long have they denied our existence, shut us out, spat upon us, and denied us what is ours, all the while sending us out, cloaked, to do their own wanton errands upon countless worlds. No more." She raised her left hand. "Let the images of these defilers be torn from the walls of Asgard. Let the memory of the line of Buri be wiped forever from the memory of Yggdrasil."

And with that, she threw a strand of magic up and round the neck of Buri's statue—and with one swift yank, she severed its head.

It tumbled from its shoulders and smashed upon the courtyard as the rows of the Dead howled and shook their spears. They then swarmed up and over the statue, ripping it to pieces and hurling the broken stones down to the cobbles.

As Loki watched, the dead soldiers devoured first Buri, then his son Borr, then Borr's wife Bestla…

Then his sons Vili, Ve—and Odin.

And very last, Hela herself toppled the statue of Queen Frigga.

Frigga, whose downturned, smiling face smashed into the stones; whose gentle hands clasping flowers shattered apart, and whose graceful frame split into a hundred pieces.

The statue that Loki had personally designed and erected himself.

But he only watched. He drew the cloak tighter around his shoulders. And then, with bowed head, he turned and went back into his chambers.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Loki straightened his dress cape and strode toward the huge double doors that led to the feasting hall. Black ice now coated the walls and marble floors, and he could see his breath. The torches burned unhealthy green, casting weird shadows upon the columns. His feet tapped quietly as he purposefully made his strides long and even.

Two guards waited at the doors—both skeleton men. One had a broken jaw that sagged onto his breast. They stared at Loki without eyes.

Loki stopped. They didn't move. He raised his eyebrows and gestured to the door.

"I've been summoned. Open the doors."

The armored skeletons swayed, leering at him.

"Does your current unfortunate state deprive you of your hearing as well as your flesh?" Loki jabbed.

A deep, haunting chuckle issued from their chests, and they turned and grasped the handles, and heaved open the doors.

A reeking odor hit Loki like a wall, making his eyes water. He swallowed and smoothed out his expression, trotting down the stairs and casting about him.

The long table had been set, and dead men in once-beautiful armor sat on both sides. They cackled and clattered, their plates filled with luminous piles of what looked like starlight, which they ate with knife and hand. Loki's footsteps stalled. Several bodies of Aesir soldiers lay stacked in the other corner, their eyes wide and unseeing, their faces grey and sunken. A chill ran down Loki's spine as he cast his gaze across the table again.

Magick. They were eating Heart-Magick.

"Loki, son of Laufey," came the call, and Loki tore his attention away to give it to the head table.

Hela sat there, wearing a towering crown of black thorns on her head. An emerald cape splayed out all around her chair, and dark jewels sparkled on her fingers.

To her right sat a striking, exceedingly-fair young man with long, snow-white hair—like that of a Svartalfheim elf—with silver eyes and pointed ears. One wide strand of his hair was jet black, however, and he wore silvery clothes embroidered with ancient elvish runes. His delicate expression was grave, his gaze piercing, his chin lifted in silent pride.

Loki drew up in front of the table, put his hand to his heart, and bowed his head.

"Loki Laufeyson, may I present my firstborn," Hela gestured to the young man. "Fenris, son of Wormwood."

Loki inclined his head to the young man.

"I am honored," he said. "I have heard many legends about your father."

"And I about yours," Fenris replied, his voice deep and smooth. Hela smirked. Loki mirrored it.

"I trust you knew him better than I knew my own," Loki said. "Though I knew enough to wish mine dead, and to make it so."

"Indeed," Hela nodded. "Which is why, despite your questionable heritage, that I've chosen to keep you alive and take you up as one of my favorites." She tilted her head. "It is well known throughout the realms that you lured Laufey here to Asgard, into the very chamber of the king, and slew him there—and were only stopped from destroying Jotunheim when Thor Odinson destroyed your Asbru bridge."

"Yes," Loki nodded, clasping his hands behind him. "That is true."

Hela's eyes bored into him.

"I despise Frost Giants," she spat. "Even to this day they defy me, hoarding their lives and lengthening them to unending by any means they can. And they have taken far more from me than that."

Loki stayed where he was, measuring his breathing, holding her gaze.

"But you have made yourself your own man, Loki Sky-Walker," she said. "Swearing fealty to no king or kingdom, but are instead a kingdom unto yourself. Much as I."

"I would never flatter myself," Loki replied, smiling. Hela chuckled.

"Charming and wise," she concluded. "I have a present for you."

Loki blinked. Hela gestured crisply…

Loki turned to see two skeletal guards stride in from the side room, dragging with them a woman in chains.

She wore a torn brown tunic and jagged skirt, and boots, her long black hair hanging loose, cuts and bruises marking her otherwise beautiful face.

Loki's heart skipped a beat.

Lady Sif.

"We captured her attempting to stop us from pulling down a statue of Thor Odinson," Hela said. "Her armor has been taken and her sword shattered. She is yours to do with as you please."

One of the guards came up to Loki and handed him the end of Sif's chain, as if passing off the leash of a dog. Loki managed to catch it. Sif just stared at him, her right arm trembling, blood running down her cheekbone.

"Do you care to join us for the feast, Sky-Walker?" Hela asked.

"I…" Loki made himself turn back around and face Hela. Then, he conjured a lascivious smile. "Thank you, but I am afraid I have…already eaten."

"I understand you," Hela quietly sneered. "Go then, and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you," Loki inclined his head again, turned, and strode across toward the doors. Sif did not move. So Loki bared his teeth and yanked on her chain.

She spun around and crashed to her knees, her wrists jerking up into the air.

"Get up and come with me, _fljóð_ ," Loki snarled. "Or I might decide you're too much trouble and feed you to our guests."

Sif let out a curse under her breath, but rose to her feet. Loki jerked on the chain again, and she stumbled forward.

Hela let out a ringing laugh and clapped her hands. The other soldiers slapped their bone-hands on the table. Sif sent Loki an absolutely poisonous glare, but he ignored it. He turned, wrapped the chain around his hand and dragged her out of the hall.

The guards shut the doors behind them. The chains jangled in the silence as they strode back through the corridors, passing more drifting dead soldiers, toward Loki's chambers. Every time Sif lagged, he jerked her harder—she yelped, stumbling, muttering vicious insults. All of them directed at him.

At last, they arrived at Loki's door. He pressed his palm to it, releasing the protective spell, then pushed through, pulled Sif with him, and shut the door again.

"I swear, whoever or _whatever_ you are, I will _skin_ you," Sif finally spat as he turned to face her. "If you lay one hand on me—I don't care about that horde outside—"

Loki grabbed her wrists and snapped her manacles loose. They dropped to the floor.

"Do you hear me?" Sif barked. "I will—"

Before she could finish, Loki had reached out with both hands, took hold of her head, and pressed a swift, gentle kiss to her lips.

She gasped as their mouths broke apart. Loki took her by the shoulders.

 _"Sif!"_ he laughed breathlessly. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

 _To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

STAVE SEVEN

"All we have to decide

is what to do with the time that is given to us."

-The Fellowship of the Ring

"Loki?" Sif gasped, her eyes going wide as the blood drained out of her face. "It…It's truly _you?"_

He beamed again, grabbing both her hands, and nodded.

" _Yes!_ Yes, it's me."

"But…" Sif stammered, feeling faint. "But how? We were told you were killed saving Thor's life!"

Loki's smile diminished, and he gazed at her.

"I was."

Her mouth worked for a moment, her thoughts spinning.

"Then…Then how…?" She couldn't summon any more coherence. Loki squeezed her fingers gently.

"Ask me again later," he said. "At the moment, I need your help." Loki let go of one hand and adjusted his grip on the other, leading her toward the bed. "I wasn't certain how I would manage this before, but since _you've_ come…"

Sif slowed—and reflexively curled her fingers around Loki's as she stared at the woman on the bed.

"It's…" she gasped. "It is Jane Foster."

"Mm," Loki said softly, letting go of her hand. Deep chills ran through Sif's whole body.

"Loki…" she whispered. "Her foot..."

"Yes," Loki murmured.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Just stood there, gazing down at Jane.

Her dark blue trousers were torn and coated with blood, her grey sweater the same. Her right wrist and hand were swollen and blue, her right eye also so black and swollen it would not open if she tried. Her legs did not lie straight, her left foot crushed and disfigured.

And her right foot was gone. She only had a stump at her ankle, smartly bound up in green cloth.

"What happened?" Sif managed.

"I pulled her from beneath a fallen building," Loki answered. "I believe she'd been there for several hours. There wasn't anything I could do about that limb—the stone had severed it."

Sif drew closer, sweeping her gaze intently over the other woman's frame.

"She is not dead?"

"No," Loki sighed. "But almost everything inside her is completely broken. Each leg is fractured in three places, her hip as well." Loki lifted a hand and gestured faintly. "Three vertebrae, five ribs, her right wrist, her right cheekbone. And inside, she's bleeding." He turned and looked at Sif. She stared back at him.

"I can heal her," Loki said, his eyebrows drawing together. "But I need to put her in a _leggrlaug._ My bathing room will suffice, and she's no trouble to carry—but I'd rather have a woman with me." He watched Sif a moment. "Will you help?"

Sif paused, then set her jaw.

"Of course," she said quietly. "What should we do first?"

RRRRRRRRRRRR

"She feels so fragile," Sif murmured. "As if her bones were eggshells."

"Mm," Loki agreed, deep in concentration.

Earlier, Loki had vanished himself from the room and come back moments later with a plain brown dress for Sif, from her own chambers. She had quickly gone behind a set of blinds and changed, then stepped with Loki into his well-lit, expansive bathing room. The walls were light sea-green, the floor white marble, sheep-skin rugs shielding it from chill. At the far end stood a stand-alone marble bathing tub with its own brass boiler. Loki had instructed Sif to turn on the tap and to fill it with hot water—enough so it steamed—whilst he had retrieved a black wooden box from under his bed. He had brought it in, set it on a long counter, and lifted the lid to reveal two rows of bottles, each filled with bright powders or odd-colored liquids. As the hot water had frothed in the tub, Loki had measured out specific amounts of several of these and poured them in. The water had changed from clear to bluish black, and foamed angrily around the edges.

Then, the two of them had gone back out into the bedroom, Loki had put a lighten-ing spell on Jane, and they were able to lift her with just their fingertips—Loki at Jane's head, Sif at her feet. They had laid her out gently on the counter, and together had cut her clothes off with small shears—every movement filled with caution. Dutifully, Sif had covered Jane with a towel, to preserve her modesty, and Loki had averted his eyes.

Together, they had worked with few words exchanged. Sif had often aided Loki in the battlefield tents, sewing lacerations and binding broken bones. Out of necessity, the two had developed a working rhythm, and now Sif absently noted that in spite of everything that had since occurred, nothing had disrupted that rhythm.

Once Jane had been stripped and lay beneath that towel, they had lifted her again and laid her down in the foaming black water. Loki had moved around to stand behind Jane's head, holding it out of the water, and then sat down on a small footstool. Sif had turned off the water and then reached down into it to unbind the bandage from Jane's missing foot.

Now, Sif sat on another footstool, holding Jane's left lower leg in both her hands beneath the hot water, pressing her thumbs to a break in the bone and keeping it still as the potion worked. Loki pillowed Jane's head in his right hand whilst slowly taking scoops of black water and pouring them into her hair, working the blood loose, rubbing his fingertips in small circles across her forehead and right cheekbone. Jane's eyes didn't move beneath her lids.

"How did you know this had happened to her?" Sif asked, watching Loki. The skin around his eyes was tight, in a concentrated wince, as he poured more water down the side of Jane's head.

"Thor told me," he answered quietly.

Sif's heart stopped—then jolted hard against her ribs.

"Thor?" she rasped. "You've spoken to Thor?"

Loki glanced up at her.

"He's here. In Asgard."

"What?" Sif gasped. "When? How?"

"Hela brought him, as a hostage," Loki replied. Water trickled from his pale hands as he pressed them against the sides of Jane's head.

"She attacked him on Midgard," Loki went on. "Destroyed his armor. And Mjollnir."

" _What?"_ Sif could barely breathe. "How is that possible?"

"Move your hands up," Loki glanced down at the water. "To the greater break, near her knee. Hold that still."

Sif bit her cheek and obeyed, feeling upwards until she found a very large break. Carefully, she closed her fingers around Jane's calf and held on.

"Hela Dǫuðarorð is an ancient sorceress," Loki said, gently lifting Jane's chin and feeling her jawbone. "Well-versed in all manner of dark magic. Mjollnir was nothing special to her."

"But where is Thor now?" Sif demanded.

"Sh, sh, sh," Loki frowned sharply at Sif, lifting a dripping finger to his lips. He picked up a hand towel and folded it, then slowly laid Jane's head down on it.

"He's in the dungeons," Loki finally told her, keeping his voice down. "And I've persuaded Hela to let him engage her champion in a fight for the throne."

"Persuaded him to…" Sif stared at him. _"Without_ Mjollnir?"

"He has no other choice," Loki snapped, giving her a sharp look. "It was either that or execution, for all of us."

Sif ground her teeth, then ducked her head, trying to calm down.

"When is it to be?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Loki replied, carefully drawing Jane's right arm out of the water. Sif watched him gently adjust the limp, swollen limb, hold her wrist in both his hands, and close his eyes.

"In the grand arena?" Sif supposed.

"Mm," Loki grunted again.

"And what are _you_ going to do?" Sif pressed, feeling sharp, irrepressible pain at the back of her chest. "Sit next to the new queen and _watch?"_

Loki's eyes blazed to hers. And he said nothing.

Sif felt her face heat, but she didn't break eye contact.

"I've told you this before," Loki finally stated, his voice hard. "I love Thor more dearly than any of you."

Sif's lip twitched, her breathing unsteady.

"In truth, I don't…" She stopped—her voice shook.

Loki's eyes flashed, and his brow furrowed. Sif's heart hammered—but she had to say it. He had seen too much, now.

"I don't think you can imagine how…how very much I do love him," Sif gasped, a single tear falling down her face.

Slowly, Loki's expression softened, and he looked back down at Jane's hand. Gingerly, he unfolded her fingers, pressing them and straightening them, as if working out knots. And he let out a resigned sigh.

"I _do_ know," he said quietly, then glanced sideways at Sif and gave her an oddly-sad smile. "And _you_ cannot imagine what pain that still sometimes causes me."

Sif blinked, mentally stumbling. Loki's smile remained for a moment before it faded away, and his gaze lingered on hers. After a long, suspended moment, he finally turned his attention back to Jane's hand.

Sif couldn't speak.

"I will not let any harm come to Thor," Loki told her at last. "But I need your assurance that you will not allow anything happen to Jane."

Sif said nothing, just watched as Loki lowered Jane's right hand back into the water and set his fingers on her collar bones, pressing his thumbs into the sides of her neck. He lowered his head, and drew in a deep breath…

Jane did the same thing.

Sif's lips parted. Her attention flashed to Loki.

"Loki," she gasped. "What did you do?"

Loki's jaw tightened, but he didn't look at her.

"She _is_ dead, isn't she?" Sif pressed. "She died when you found her!"

"She would have done, yes," Loki answered tightly.

"Without your heart, you mean," Sif finished. "She's borrowing your heart."

Loki looked up at her, suddenly pale and bleak. He didn't say anything.

"Great Valhalla, Loki!" Sif cried. _"Why?"_

"Because Thor asked it of me," he murmured.

"But if she dies, _you_ will die," Sif shot back.

"Would that matter so much to you?" he asked quietly.

Sif swallowed, feeling heat in her face again.

"It would matter to Thor," she evaded. "Especially if he is counting upon you to save him."

Loki said nothing for a moment, then released Jane, opened the box again, and pulled out a bottle filled with red liquid.

"Which is why we must keep her alive."

"But…" Sif ventured. "What if _you_ are killed?"

"Then you and I would both be free of a great deal of heartache, wouldn't we?" He glanced at her pointedly before opening the bottle and pouring a teaspoon of the liquid into the black water.

The black water broke into a frothing boil—though it didn't reach that temperature. Loki slid his left hand under Jane's neck again, reaching down to wet his fingers and then touch his fingertips to various specific places on her face.

Beneath Sif's hands, a sharp _click_ issued.

"Is the bone coming together?" Loki asked, still focused on Jane.

Sif firmly ran her hands down Jane's leg, noting the smoothness of the bone. She reached Jane's foot and explored it, pressing each bone, then turning her foot to work the ankle to and fro.

"It's all sound," she concluded.

"What about the other leg?" Loki asked. Sif shifted and dragged her hands up and down Jane's leg, even to the femur, closing her eyes so that she could concentrate fully on simply _feeling_.

"Yes," Sif said.

"And the wound?" Loki asked. Sif lifted Jane's right leg up and out of the water, inspecting the sealed skin over the ankle bone.

"It's still quite red. But the bones aren't protruding anymore."

"No sign of stones lodged in the flesh?"

Sif shook her head.

"No."

"All right, lower it back down," Loki instructed. Sif did so, gently.

"I will need you to reach up and feel her hips and lower ribs, Sif," Loki told her. Sif nodded, moved to Jane's right side of the tub, put her hands in the water and found Jane's hips, then closed her eyes again and ran her thumbs across Jane's ribs, one at a time.

"All sound," she said. "But I cannot go further."

"Mhm," Loki said, reached down and tapped Jane's breastbone with his forefinger. A strange ringing sound rippled the water. A sounding spell.

"All sound," he decided. "Now we wait a bit."

Sif drew her hands out of the water and rested her wrists on the side, letting her fingers drip into the tub.

Slowly, the water changed from black to blue, to green, to an odd gold. Loki watched the colors transition with critical, narrow eyes.

"She was bleeding in three places," Sif realized. Loki just nodded, absently combing his fingers through Jane's wet hair.

The water began to roil again, and Loki shifted.

"Come, Sif, hold her head," Loki said. "The water is clearing. I need your help to turn her."

Sif got up as Loki did as well, and he stepped out of the way so she could sit on the footstool. Sif kept one hand on Jane's head whilst Loki stepped to Jane's right side. Sif took hold of Jane's right shoulder and slowly turned her toward her left, whilst Loki knelt and put his hand in the water, and gently pushed on her hip so that she lay on her left side in the tub.

Just then, the water cleared, and Loki frowned hard as his gaze swept up and down, up and down Jane's spine.

"The two wounds have closed," he marked. He winced again, as if dissatisfied, moving his hand to press against the bones in her lower back. " _Feikinstafir,_ "he said through his teeth, slapping the surface of the water.

"What is it?" Sif asked.

Loki grimaced again, turning his head to the side and probing up Jane's back again. He shook his head tightly.

"Something is wrong there," he muttered. He shook his head again, harder. _"Svívirðing!_ I've missed something."

"But will she live?" Sif asked.

"Yes, for now," Loki said, lifting up a bit and flicking water off his fingers. He reached up and squeezed Jane's neck, pushing against her jugular vein. "We will have to be wary of fever. I didn't like the tone of the last color."

"I noticed that," Sif said quietly.

Loki sighed and rubbed his eyes with his wet hand.

"All right, I'll…I'll go back to your room and fetch a sleeping gown," he said. "Then we can lift her out, dry and dress her, and put her in my bed. And…" Loki glanced at Sif wearily. "We will see if she ever awakens."

 _To be continued…_

 _In case you're curious, "Feikinstafir" means "Curses," and "Svívirðing" means "disgrace."_


	8. Chapter 8

STAVE EIGHT

"There are some things that time cannot mend.

Some hurts that go too deep

And have taken hold."

-Return of the King

Jane lay in an impenetrable darkness for a countless time. She wasn't conscious of anything except deep, steady breaths, and that heartbeat. A heartbeat that would sometimes quicken, but would soon calm.

Finally, she felt her consciousness rising, as if she was coming up from the bottom of the ocean at night. Gradually, dull sensation returned to some of her body—her arms, back, chest, neck, face…

Every muscle ached, and deep inside her chest, needles of pain worked their way up and down her ribs.

Sounds. Very quiet. Just a low crackling, like flames in a fireplace. And to match it, dim light pulsed against her eyelids.

For a long while, she lay there with her eyes closed. She felt so weak, it didn't seem possible that she could move her fingers—or even open her eyes. But then, unexpectedly, they did open.

Blurred darkness above her. It took her several minutes for her eyes to slowly focus, and compose a coherent image for her. She seemed to be looking at a canopy over a bed—a very dark green canopy. She could see the edge of it at the foot of the bed, for apparently she was propped up on some thick, soft pillows. Languidly, she blinked, trying to shift her eyes…

A large, dark room. A fireplace over there to the right, where the light and crackling were coming from. There was a couch in front of that fireplace, too, and a young woman with black hair lay on her side on it, covered in a blanket. She was asleep.

And there was someone else. Someone on the bed with Jane. He sat facing her, leaning back against one of the posts of the bed, sitting on top of the thick green comforter that covered her.

Jane's eyebrows drew together as she tried to clarify her vision. He wore black trimmed in silver, and had long black hair. She could see half his pale face by the light of the fire, and his bright eyes watched her. His legs stretched out parallel to hers, one leg crossing the other. And his left hand rested softly upon her right ankle.

But she couldn't feel it.

He didn't say anything. His brow furrowed and he watched her. She blinked again, feeling her breathing pick up as her sluggish thoughts jumbled together…

"You're safe," the man— _Loki_ —said quietly. "You're in Asgard."

Jane's lips parted. She didn't say anything.

 _"That_ …is the most excellent Lady Sif," Loki glanced over his shoulder at the woman on the couch. "You may have met her briefly right before you hit me in the face."

Images wandered through Jane's head—golden images of a long hallway, and a splendid, tall woman in shining armor with raven hair. Jane grunted softly. Loki paused.

"I will tell you this now, before you're fully awake," he said, his voice measured and purposeful. "So that you don't go into a _vaka-dauðr_." He drew a deep breath.

Jane felt herself doing the same—and some of the haze disappeared from her mind.

"Nearly your entire skeletal system was crushed," Loki told her evenly. "Much of your head, your right arm, your ribs, your back, your hips, your legs, your feet. We submerged you in a _leggrlaug,_ which is a 'bone-bath.' It did a great deal to repair the damage, but much of it was so severe that the healing isn't yet complete. I've also managed to stop the bleeding inside of you." His voice quieted, and he shifted his hand on her leg.

Jane frowned harder, her breath picking up, because what she saw didn't connect with what she felt. She glanced up to find Loki already looking at her, tilting toward her.

"I have no doubt that you cannot sense anything below your waist," he said. "And your right foot has been severed."

Jane blinked. Her throat closed. She stared at him.

"Wh…" she croaked. "What?"

The skin around Loki's eyes tightened.

"It happened in the fall," he said. "The damage was done before I ever arrived. Thankfully, it was a clean break. But we will have to watch for poison in the blood."

"What?" Jane said again, hoarse. "My…"

Loki didn't say anything, his eyebrows drawn together. Then, his mouth tensing, he shifted and took hold of the bottom edge of the blanket. Slowly, with both hands, he lifted the blanket up and folded it up to her knees.

And Jane stared down at her bare left foot, and then her right ankle…

But her right foot was missing.

Her throat closed again. Her arms twitched, but she still couldn't move. Her lower lip trembled, and she stared, fixed, at the space where her foot should be.

Worse yet…

She felt nothing. She couldn't feel her legs _at all_.

A tear spilled down her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked them open, _willing_ them to correct the obvious mistake…

It looked the same.

"Come, come, come," Loki sighed, deftly covering the horrifying sight with the blanket again—but now, Jane could see the strangeness of the missing shape beneath the covers.

Loki slid off the bed, ran his hand through his hair, and came around the foot of the bed to the other side of it. He crawled up on it and lay down beside her—letting out a frank, weary sigh.

"Let me see this," he said quietly, reaching down and taking up her right hand in both of his. Jane flinched, blinking loose more hot tears that trailed down to her chin. She halfway turned her head toward him…

And she absently noted that she was wearing an unfamiliar, long-sleeved, white cotton nightgown instead of her sweater and jeans.

Loki propped his head on a decorative pillow, his head about level with her shoulder, partly turned toward her. He laid her palm down upon his left one, and with his right, he probed the bones of her hand. And she _could_ feel that—with an immediacy that made her eyes sting. His touch was warm and careful. Jane glanced down to the end of the bed again…

Screwed her eyes shut, and caught a weak sob in her chest.

"Calm down," Loki ordered, his voice in her ear now. "Did you know that Lady Sif was once impaled in battle—by a spear. Fandral the Dashing, also. With _ice_. Odin All-Father had his right eye destroyed in the battle with the Frost Giants. Thor's neck was broken once, I seem to remember." She could feel his tired smirk. "And I had some lovely Elvish weapon stuck right through my ribs, bright and clean, from fore to aft. Which makes my brother and I even, I think." His voice lowered. "Such is the price we all pay when we pledge ourselves to Thor's ventures."

Jane fought to stifle her jerking sobs—her whole ribcage hurt. Loki let go of her hand.

"Ugh, I cannot concentrate anymore." He let out another long sigh and lay on his back. Out of the corner of her vision, Jane saw him close his eyes.

"I'm far too tired to contrive a way of saying this more delicately," he said. "But when I rescued you, all your systems were failing. If I'd left you alone for another ten seconds you would have been dead. So I…" He took another deep, exhausted sigh. "I did something very complicated that I don't have the strength to explain, and so you and I…" He absently lifted his right hand and flexed his fingers, as if his wrist ached. Then he let his hand fall down upon his chest, and adjusted his head on the pillow. "Suffice it to say that when I am this weary, if I stray more than a room's length away from you, I experience what you might call 'arrhythmia.' Which doesn't amuse me." He turned his head, and softly pressed his forehead to Jane's shoulder. He sighed again—and the deep breath washed through Jane…

And she suddenly realized that she had breathed _with_ him.

"If I live, and you live, then I can help Thor tomorrow in the tournament against Hela and her demons," Loki murmured. "We can all escape, and decipher some way to stop all this. If you die, I'll drop like a felled sparrow no matter where I am, and no one will be able to save him, or get any of us out of this predicament."

Jane still couldn't speak, her eyebrows drawing together as her mind slowly spun.

"So unless you'd like all of Asgard, and indeed the nine realms following, to be overturned and perish in fire and water," Loki said faintly. "I suggest you pull yourself together."

His breathing evened out, and once again the sound of that powerful pulse pushed through Jane's frame.

"I've tried sleeping at the other end of the room," Loki added in a whisper, as if he couldn't summon any more volume. "But my heart started to panic. So I'll be sleeping here. _Góða nótt_."

And with another long, sighing breath, he fell silent.

And Jane _felt_ him fall asleep. As if part of herself had faded into slumber. And, though her mind still swam with cluttered questions—and the dreadful sight at the end of the bed—she all at once couldn't keep her eyes open either, and fell into just as deep a sleep as he.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Sif awoke to the sound of bracer straps being buckled. She frowned and opened her eyes, blinking into the embers of the dying fire. She glanced over the back of the couch to see Loki standing at the foot of his bed, wearing his dress-leather riding armor and green cape, buckling his archery bracer to his right forearm. Frowning further, Sif sat up and peered past him at the balcony window.

"Is it morning?" She rubbed her neck.

"Yes," Loki acknowledged without looking at her. "Past the usual breakfast time, in fact."

"The sky is grey," Sif remarked. "It looks like dawn."

"Don't you remember the stories of Helheim, Sif?" Loki glanced darkly at her. "There _is_ no day, there."

Sif didn't answer. Instead, she stood up, running her hands through her hair, ignoring her sore back and the bruises on her face.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes, once Jane calmed down."

"She woke up?" Sif's eyebrows raised. "Did she…"

"See that her foot is missing?" Loki finished, glancing at Sif. "Yes."

"What did she say?" Sif murmured.

"I don't think she was entirely aware," Loki replied, moving to pull on his knee-high boots. "You may have further explaining to do if she wakes again."

"Where are you going?" Sif asked.

"To look after Thor," Loki replied, tugging on his second boot, straightening and turning toward the door. He paused to point at the bed. "So, you look after her."

"Wait," Sif called, stepping after him. He stopped, and looked back at her. Sif hesitated, searching his face.

He gazed back at her for a moment, then offered a broken smile.

A low pain traveled through Sif's body.

Loki said nothing for a long moment—and something in his eyes softened like regret.

"I must go to Thor," he murmured. "Goodbye, Sif." He turned and strode toward the doors, waving his hand across them. "Open these for no one. And prepare yourselves for travel. If we live, we will come to find you." He opened the door, turned, and looked at her one last time. "If we don't…then fly." Then, he passed through, and the door shut behind him.

 _To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

STAVE NINE

"Faithless is he who says goodbye when the road darkens."

-JRR Tolkien

Thor's head came up as the great doors of the dungeon clanged open. He'd been pacing the floor of his cell for hours now, unable to go back to sleep. But now he stopped as a chill crawled through the air toward him.

A small contingency of Hela's dead soldiers drifted into the chamber, filling it with eerie green light. They stopped in front of his cell…

Escorting a single Einherjar soldier in shining gold armor, bearing no weapons himself. But on his arms he carried a breastplate, bracers, belt, scabbard and a sword. He held an old winged helmet under his right arm.

The contingency halted, and faced Thor's cell, as did the Einherjar. He looked young, and familiar, with light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a short beard. Thor frowned.

The wall of the cell dropped, and the Einherjar glanced up at Thor and smiled wryly before stepping up into the cell. The wall buzzed and erected again.

"Erinvane?" Thor demanded, without preamble. "The son of the blacksmith—the one who became a member of the royal guard? I thought you had left Asgard."

"I did leave the palace," the young guard smiled again. "But when I heard what had happened, I returned. To little avail." He rolled his eyes. "But now, at least, I have begged to have the honor of attending you, and preparing you for the battle before you."

Thor's jaw tightened.

"Very well. Proceed," he said, and lifted his arms. Erinvane laid out the pieces of armor on the slab-bed, then picked up the dulled-bronze breastplate and lifted it over Thor's arm and head. Briskly, as if he had done this a thousand times, he began adjusting it so that it fit Thor's broad shoulders and long waist.

"This armor has been stripped of any magical power," Erinvane said as he tightened the buckles. "But of course, it was still forged by dwarves, and retains its strength."

"Erinvane," Thor said quietly, his vision unfocusing. "I've…had a dream."

Erinvane's hands paused, but soon resumed, fastening the breastplate at Thor's side.

"Would it relieve you to tell it to me, Your Highness?" Erinvane asked.

"I do not know," Thor murmured. "What good could come of that?"

"It could release your thoughts," Erinvane replied, moving to the bed and picking up a bracer. "So that you may think only of the battle ahead of you."

Thor lowered his head as Erinvane took up Thor's left forearm, laid the bracer against it, turned Thor's wrist and began tightening the stays. Just when Thor was about to warn him not to pull too close—Erinvane stopped, and the bracer hugged Thor's arm perfectly.

"I walked upon the hills of a dark battlefield," Thor whispered. "Through fog, and smoke, and ash. Where lay thousands of bodies. Men of Asgard, dark elves, winged Valkyrie, giants, trolls…"

Erinvane finished the last buckle, then took up the other bracer and began putting it on Thor's right arm. And again, he synched it to fit exactly. Thor took a low, unsteady breath.

"I did not know where any of my kin were, nor my friends. And I carried no weapon. And then…" Thor swallowed. "Before me, at my feet, lay the Lady Sif." The skin around Thor's eyes tightened. "Pale as snow, her face marked by bright blood. Utterly still, as if asleep."

"Mm," Erinvane said quietly, taking up the belt and scabbard, stepping in and wrapping it briskly around Thor's middle. He pulled it to the exact right notch and buckled it, turning the scabbard within easy reach. Thor glanced down, and searched the other man's face.

"Have you seen her in Asgard?" Thor asked softly, pain needling around inside his chest. His breath tightened, and he almost couldn't ask the next question. "Did she fall in Loki's Forum?"

"No one has received word from the Warriors Three or the gracious Lady Sif," Erinvane replied. "But of the bodies gathered from the forum, hers was not among them."

A sigh broke loose from Thor's frame, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"And yet I still see it," he breathed, pressing a hand over his face. "Against my eyelids."

"See this instead, Your Highness," Erinvane proposed, and when Thor opened his eyes, he found Erinvane holding horizontal a huge, handsome sword, marked with runes, its hilt glittering with ancient jewels. Thor stared at it, then up at Erinvane.

 _"'Then he saw, hanging on the wall, a heavy_

 _Sword, hammered by giants,_ "Erinvane recited.

"' _strong And blessed with their magic, the best of all_

 _weapons_

 _But so massive that no ordinary man could lift_

 _Its carved and decorated length. He drew it_

 _From its scabbard, broke the chain on its hilt,_

 _And then, savage, now, angry_

 _And desperate, lifted it high over his head_

 _And struck with all the strength he had left,_

 _Caught her in the neck and cut it through,_

 _Broke bones and all. Her body fell_

 _To the floor, lifeless, the sword was wet_

 _With her blood, and Beowulf rejoiced at the sight._ '"

"It cannot be," Thor breathed, reaching up with awed fingers to barely touch the weathered hilt. "This is _Beowulfearm?"_

"It is indeed," Erinvane smiled. "My father had it in his own armory. He is glad to lend it to his prince for as long as he may have need."

Slowly, filled with sudden wonder, Thor curled his hand around the hilt and lifted the mighty sword. Its ancient blade gleamed even in the dim light, shimmering in his grip.

Erinvane turned and took up the helmet, then faced Thor and held it up.

"By your leave?"

Thor, pulling his attention from the blade, nodded at him.

Erinvane stepped close, and slid the winged helmet down upon Thor's head.

And he held on.

Thor frowned.

For just an instant, Erinvane leaned even closer, as if their noses would touch…

And Erinvane's blue eyes flushed through with vivid emerald.

"Take heart, my prince," he whispered. And then he gave him a wicked wink.

Thor's mouth fell open—

But Erinvane's eyes then blushed back to blue, he stepped back, and bowed at the waist.

"You carry our hopes, liege-lord," he said, laying his hand on his heart. "Fight well."

And with that, he turned, and the skeletons opened the cell for him. He stepped out, and between two of them, he departed.

But the others faced Thor, leering at him, and one of them tilted his head to the side— _far_ too far to the right.

"Come with us, Odinson." His teeth clacked together. "And greet the day of your death."

 _To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

STAVE TEN

"Never laugh

At live dragons."

-JRR Tolkien

Loki drew himself up, straightened his cape, and rounded the corner. Ahead of him opened a broad door that led to the King's View: the box seats that overlooked the _Mestr Leikrstaðr_ , the grand gaming arena of Asgard. As he stepped down the three stairs, and gazed down through the wide open space above the vast colosseum, memories rang through his mind.

 _"Ah! This is the one!"_

 _Loki halted, his head coming around. Fandral strode toward him whilst removing his leather bracers. The blonde man shot him a grin. Loki frowned. Fandral was closely followed by Hogun and Volstaag. Volstaag had the same look of brash glee on his face that Fandral did, but Hogun's black eyes were unreadable._

 _"Can I help you?" Loki asked._

 _"You already did," Fandral crowed. "The pageboy told me you were the one in charge of the illusions and dangers in this tournament."_

 _"Indeed, I was," Loki answered, narrowing his eyes and studying each of them in turn._

 _"We were just wondering if that was as challenging as they possibly could be," Volstaag rumbled, grinning at his friends. "We were told that the creator of these illusions was a master—that he could maim or kill his foes without even touching them."_

 _Loki raised an eyebrow._

 _"Are you complaining that you weren't maimed this afternoon?"_

 _"I think he is saying that your reputation has been exaggerated," Hogun said, straight-faced._

 _"Thank you for translating," Loki said coldly._

 _"What my friend is saying," Fandral laughed, putting a hand on Volstaag's broad shoulder. "Is that we hope you aren't disappointed. You mustn't be, you know. I doubt you've been tested against warriors of our caliber before."_

 _"You shouldn't listen to stupid gossip," Hogun scolded Fandral. "If he could maim people without touching them, don't you think he would have been out here in the contest with us, trying to become one of Thor's best?"_

 _"You're right, of course." Fandral looked at Loki with interest. "You've doubtlessly just performed illusions to amuse the All-Father in the past, am I correct?" He glanced at the others. "I've heard of monarchs who keep illusionists as they would keep minstrels or jesters."_

 _Loki's mouth hardened._

 _"It's too bad, really," Volstaag said. "It would be nice to have someone in our band that could fight like that."_

 _Loki's eyes caught a flash of red far past them. He turned back to the three._

 _"Pardon my curiosity, my lords, but may I ask the name that this pageboy used to identify me?"_

 _"The Illusion Master," Hogun answered._

 _"Yes, that is one of my titles," Loki answered. Then, he raised his voice and his head. "Thor!"_

 _The three jumped, and their eyes went wide. They had never heard someone call him by just his given name._

 _"What do you want?" Thor bellowed back, in an impetuous, familiar tone. Loki didn't answer—he just folded his arms and waited._

 _Thor, his armor flashing blindingly, his red cape billowing out behind him, strode across the tournament field, hopped over a piece of machinery, and swung around the tall form of Volstaag, smiling._

 _"Ah, my new friends—I see you've met my brother!"_

Loki paused at the foot of the steps, fighting back a shiver. The air here, usually so warm and balmy, had lowered to an unearthly chill. Usually, he did not mind cold—but this penetrated too deep for any comfort. And usually, this room was well-lit by afternoon sunshine, filled with the scents of roasting meat and baked bread, and flooded with the roar of a cheerful, excited crowd awaiting tournament.

Now it hung dark, with green light muttering in the lamps that barely illuminated the furniture. Loki crossed the space, stepping toward the great opening to peer down.

Below, in the arena, a small section had been roped off for the nobles of Asgard to sit—and that is all they did, silent and pale. The rest of the arena was clogged to bursting with Hela's glowing wraiths, who rippled and rustled and chattered their dry teeth, their tattered banners stirred by an unfelt wind. And even as Loki stood, gazing out across them, they began to sway, and utter a deep, bone-chilling chant that vibrated the stones of the Leikrstaðr:

"Ófriðr! Blóð! Bál! Dauðadagr!"

Loki recognized the words, though their accent was ancient, and their pulse like the rumblings of an earthquake.

 _War._

 _Blood._

 _Fire._

 _Death._

"Loki Sky-Walker," purred a voice from the darkness to his right. Loki turned to see Hela, sitting on the velvet couch where Odin and Frigga used to sit. She wore a shimmering black gown and emerald cape, her hair half done up and held with a silver pin in the shape of a lute—a pin Loki recognized.

He had given it to his mother on her last birthday.

Loki inclined his head to Hela, and gave her a smile.

"Min Dróttning."

She smiled at him, her grey eyes luminous.

"You have a very pretty manner," she said. "And a graceful carriage. I cannot believe you were raised in Asgard."

Loki chuckled.

"I suppose I took my cues from the magic makers of the realm," he said. "Which, of course, happened to belong to your fair sex."

"Oh, indeed," Hela nodded. "And Frigga, despite her marriage, did nonetheless carry herself well."

Loki said nothing, just watched her for a moment, then looked down at the arena again, where disembodied green light wafted round the empty playing court.

"How did you find your gift?" Hela asked.

"She will take some breaking," Loki replied frankly. "Though she will be all the more delicious for it."

Hela chuckled.

"Come," she said, waving a graceful hand. "Sit with me."

Loki faced her again, and bowed.

"As you wish," he said, moved over and easily sat, letting out a sigh as he leaned back and folded his arms. "How long before we begin?"

"They only await my command," Hela replied. "Would you care for anything to refresh you?"

"No, thank you, I am quite satisfied," Loki replied, still studying the arena.

"Very well," Hela said. "So am I." She arose, the cape tumbling around her feet, and stepped up to the railing. She held up a hand, and the sweeping masses outside fell still. Hela took a deep breath.

"Let the tournament for the throne of Asgard begin!"

Her voice rang through the dark air, and all her thanes shivered in glee. Hela took a step back and sat down again, draping her hand over the back of the couch so that her fingers nearly touched Loki's shoulder. She glanced over and smiled at him, and he returned it.

Then, the great portcullis at the left end of the arena reeled open with the clanking of a mighty chain, and a broad-shouldered man strode out.

Thor, in his bronze dwarvish armor, a winged helm on his head, bearing _Beowulfearm_ , shining bright as daylight. His boots left marks in the shallow sand as he strode to the center. And when he achieved it, he stopped. He did not look around, nor did he search the high box where Loki sat.

He waited.

Across from him, the portcullis there drew open also…

And a shaft of dark starlight strode out.

He was tall—a head taller than Thor—clad in sleek black armor that reflected the green light like mirrors. His silvery-white hair streamed out behind him, his graceful white left hand resting upon the pommel of an elegant blue sword that hung at his belt. A cape like gathered night fell from his shoulders and slithered behind him in the dust. As he walked, he cast his cold, silvery gaze across the company, his face placid as a winter lake.

He stopped a length away from Thor, giving him a frozen, distant look, then closed his eyes and inclined his head in a princely manner.

Thor did not move.

The half-elf's eyes opened, and he gave Thor a piercing look.

"Shall we begin, then?" Fenris, son of Hela and Wormwood, asked calmly.

"I don't know what we're waiting for," Thor answered.

The crowd chuckled wickedly.

Fenris grinned.

The next second, like a shaft of lightning, he had drawn his sword and lashed out at Thor.

Thor leaped back, bringing _Beowulfearm_ to bear. The blades clashed—the thunder of their meeting shattered the air.

Fenris advanced, his rapid, sweeping swings like the beating of wings, his sword a flashing flame. Thor countered and parried as he stepped back, his sword growling and snarling. The crowds seethed as they watched.

Fenris whirled, striking at Thor's head. His tip grazed Thor's helmet even as he ducked. Green sparks flew. Thor lunged forward—the elf stepped sideways— _Beowulfearm_ clipped his breastplate. Red flame burst.

Fenris came round and struck Thor in the back with the butt of his sword—Thor threw himself forward, dove and rolled, then leaped back to his feet. Fenris flung his cape out at him—

Thor caught the cloth with his left forearm, then yelped and pulled back.

The cape hem had slashed into his upper arm like claws. Blood streamed down his skin. The crowd rumbled.

" _Ulfr! Ulfr! ULFR!"_ they chanted.

Fenris bared his teeth—his _fangs_ —and let out an unearthly, hissing growl.

Thor bared his teeth too, and threw himself at Fenris, hacking down at his head with the giant sword.

Fenris danced out of the way, spun and parried. The swords then tangled, biting and swirling, spitting colored sparks. The combatants' feet kicked up cascades of dirt, Fenris' cape billowing behind him like a deadly cloud.

Again, Fenris spun, his cape catching the edge of Thor's helmet and knocking it off. The helmet tumbled, and with one swift movement, Fenris kicked it away, then slashed at Thor's neck.

Thor ducked back—the edge of the blade missed his face by an _inch_ —he knocked Fenris' sword away even as he let out a roar. He swung again at Fenris, battering him back, slamming _Beowulfearm_ down upon him over and over again. Fenris parried, bending his knees beneath the blows, sliding his feet backward like a fencer. Then, he danced aside, flaring his cape across the side of Thor's face.

Blood bloomed in long streaks across Thor's cheek and head. He cried out, leaping back. Fenris bent at the waist, opened his mouth and snarled again, his eyes burning red. Blood dripped into Thor's eyes.

He took _Beowulfearm_ in both hands, then, and attacked Fenris with vengeance. The elf retreated under the fury of Thor's blade, as the crowd began simmering.

Hela sat up, just slightly, her mouth hardening. Loki did not stir, just sat with his arms crossed.

Fenris retreated back and back, until his heel caught the wall of the arena. He dipped low just as Thor brought a crushing blow down to kill him. _Beowulfearm_ skidded across the stone. Fenris tried to step free—

Thor struck out with his foot and stepped down on that wicked cape.

It tore.

A desperate howl sounded from the rending cloth. A large piece ripped loose, leaving a jagged edge behind. The piece beneath Thor's foot writhed, and withered to dust.

Fenris staggered, then turned horrified eyes upon Thor's boot.

Thor heaved _Beowulfearm_ and its brilliant blade cut the air, slashing another bright line in the cape.

The ranks of Hel bellowed.

Fenris spiraled away, brandishing his weapon like a storm of thorns. Thor, grinning, chased after him.

And then…

Fenris sheathed his sword. He kicked a tight twirl in the dirt, ended it by ducking low and planting one hand on the ground, his cape flying over his head like a banner.

And the next moment, a black mist swallowed him, twisting through his armor, spinning round his head.

Thor jerked to a halt, lifting his sword.

Fenris' shape disappeared in a tornado of shadow—and the pillar of smoke then took to the sky, stabbing upward like a lance. Lightning flashed within it, and thunder rumbled.

Then…

The shadow stretched and lengthened, and in a matter of moments, a mammoth, four-legged beast materialized. It shook its great body, and black shadow flung loose of its thick fur like water. It opened its eyes—bright as red stars; bared its teeth—long as swords; and let out a bone-breaking roar from its vast mouth—hot as a furnace.

It was enormous. It could have bounded out of the arena in three leaps—the spread of its feet took up half the field. Its great tail swept across the ranks of Asgard, who had to leap back and flee lest they be crushed.

Smoke seethed from its teeth and nostrils. Its infernal eyes blazed. It laid back its vast ears, lowered its head, and eyed Thor as if he were a rabbit caught in a thicket.

"Ah," Loki said brightly. "I believe that's my cue."

"What?" Hela's head came around.

"Just watch," Loki said, nodding and pointing with one finger.

Hela, frowning, lifted her chin.

Fenris lowered his head further, the hair on his back bristling like a mane. Thor hefted his sword, shifting back only a few steps, baring his teeth again even as the wolf's burning breath gusted all around him.

Then, an odd, cold counter wind blew in, swirling against Thor's back.

Fenris' mouth closed. A cautious, thundering growl shuddered through his massive chest.

And with a clap of thunder, a _dragon_ landed on the edge of the arena.

The wolf twitched back.

Thor spun around.

An immense black dragon, with shimmering violet scales and gleaming green eyes, with a wingspan stretching to encompass the entire arena, sank its claws into the very stone, thrashed its finned head, and let out a rending screech.

The ranks of the dead answered it with a terrified howl.

But before the wolf could retreat, or the army dissipate, the dragon flung itself off the parapet with another shriek, and plunged onto the playing field—

Where it _exploded_ —

And turned the entire arena into a pool of glittering black fog.

Hela's expression turned poisonous.

And the next instant, she flicked a thin dirk from her belt, spun, and plunged it straight through Loki's heart.

But instead of a gasp—instead of his eyes flying wide…

Loki just lifted his eyebrows, gazed back at her…

And grinned.

Then, as Hela watched, he shimmered across with golden sunshine…

And disappeared. Leaving her knife blade stuck impotently into the cushion.

 _To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

STAVE ELEVEN

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together.

Fell deeds awake.

Now for wrath,

now for ruin,

and the red dawn!"

-Theodin King

The Two Towers

Thor stood with bent legs, his heart hammering, blood dripping down to his beard. All around him swirled a thick, dark fog that smelled of exotic spice and sparkled with a sinister light. He couldn't see _anything,_ and the roar of the arena had gone dull and distant.

Movement behind him.

He whirled, slashing the air with his sword.

A skidding sound, and a pair of boots knocked into his. Thor tripped, hopped back—

To see Loki leap to his feet, giving him a look of sheer exasperation.

"Thank you for that—you nearly took my head off!" he barked, dusting himself off.

"Loki!" Thor cried, swiping the blood out of his face. "What are you doing here?"

Loki shrugged, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, I dunno—perhaps saving your life."

"Hela will kill us!" Thor cried.

"She can't kill what she can't see," Loki countered. "But you and I, meanwhile…" He turned away, lifted a hand, and the fog dissipated ahead of them in a wide path.

"You mean to escape?" Thor asked.

"No," Loki shook his head as he gravely met his gaze. "I mean to kill him."

Thor grinned.

Loki replied with a grim smile of his own, then brushed his hands against each other—

A great, lethal black bow bloomed between his palms, and he took it up in his right hand. With a twinkle, a quiver full of long black arrows feathered in green leaped into his grasp, and he clipped it to his belt at his right hip.

Thor strode forward, and Loki fell in beside him, flicking away the fog as they came to it. Neither of them spoke, and Thor listened with held breath.

SLAM!

A huge paw crushed the ground just before them.

Thor dashed forward and hacked into it.

A demonic yelp cracked through the darkness and the paw withdrew—

But then, in a flurry of chaotic, earth-shaking movement, the mighty wolf came after them with both paws _and_ his burning mouth as if they were two rats he was furious to catch.

Thor leaped and dodged, dirt flying in his face, slashing at the furry forelegs; whilst Loki ducked and spun, evading like a dancer, searching upward for a clear shot.

The huge, snapping jaws caught at Thor, acid spit biting into his armor and seeping through. Thor leaped forward and rolled, threw himself to his feet and plunged his sword into Fenris' back leg.

The wolf keened—

Twisted, reached underneath and bit Thor.

Pain blared through Thor's head. Breath shocked from his body.

And Fenris whipped his head and threw Thor across the arena.

For a frozen instant, Thor heard nothing but silence—

Then his back slammed into the wall.

He impacted deep—he felt something within him snap. Stones cascaded down around him, battering his head and shoulders. He collapsed to the ground, his vision blinking in and out. He lost his sword.

He lay there—couldn't breathe, couldn't move, half buried.

Finally, he forced himself to pull in a tearing gasp, struggling to lift his head…

A stone tumbled off his neck and, grimacing, he turned his head to the left to try to peer through the dust…

The wolf's red eyes blazed through the dark. His gnashing vibrated Thor's frame.

Groaning through his teeth, spitting out blood, Thor pushed up, trying to heave off the rocks that covered his back and legs…

The mighty wolf advanced, prowling swiftly forward, glowing green liquid dripping from his fangs.

 _Beowulfearm_ 's hilt gleamed at Thor beneath a large stone.

He didn't have time to get up. Grinding his teeth, he lunged at the sword, his hand slapping down on metal—

The wolf slid to a halt, opened his volcanic maw—

Loki skidded in front of Thor, an arrow to the string—raised it high, sighted down the shaft—

And let it fly.

Like a bolt of night, it flashed through the air—

And punched through the roof of Fenris' mouth.

The wolf reeled backward, paws flailing in the dirt.

Loki turned and threw himself on top of Thor, shielding his head with his own.

More stones shook loose of the wall. The monster roared in momentary panic, tumbled onto his back, and crashed to the earth.

The ground split apart. Huge cracks opened up in the walls of the arena.

Thor felt Loki's hand move across his head, and then Loki bent down and shouted in his ear.

"Are you dead?"

"No, Loki," Thor grunted irritably.

"Good, then get up," Loki climbed off him, then bent down and grabbed his arm, hauling him up and out of the rubble. Absentmindedly, Thor picked up _Beowulfearm_ and shakily slid it into the scabbard. All around them, the smoke was dissipating, and the army of dead began to roil with unease.

"When she sees him lying there…" Thor panted.

"She will be unhappy, to say the least," Loki finished. "Come." And he grabbed Thor's left hand.

The next second, a blinding _flash_ consumed Thor's vision…

And suddenly they stood in a dark palace corridor, only one green torch flickering. Their ragged breaths echoed against the marble, and Loki glanced up and down the hall as he let go of Thor's hand.

Thor broke out in a sweat, and leaned back against a pillar, swallowing hard.

"You've broken something, haven't you?" Loki muttered, pressing his hands to Thor's breastplate and feeling up and down.

"Ow— _Ouch,_ Loki, yes!" Thor snapped, swatting him away. "Yes, I've broken something."

Loki winced slightly and glanced down the corridor again.

"I don't have time to tend to it now, I'll have to look at it later," he decided, then reached in his coat and pulled out an embroidered cloth. "Clean up your face—you look like the devil."

"Oh, thank you," Thor muttered, snatching it from him.

"You're very welcome," Loki grinned and bowed. "For _everything_."

Thor wiped the blood off his face, but met Loki's eyes.

"I'll thank you properly later."

"Good, because we don't have time now," Loki said, starting off up the corridor. "Come on."

Grinding his teeth, but knowing Loki was right, Thor limped after him.

RRRRRRRRRRR

Sif paced the floor of Loki's chambers. She had discovered a bag in Loki's closet: a type of infinity bag that could hold anything without weighing the more for it. She had packed Loki's travel clothes, and several of his loose robes that could suffice for dresses for herself and Jane. She'd also packed a small cauldron she'd found under his bed which made various kinds of bland stew if tapped with a metal object three times. She remembered it from many a trek through the wilds. She had also packed his wooden case of potions. With the time that remained, she had cleaned herself up, then tended to Jane.

Jane had eased in and out of consciousness for hours, never becoming coherent. Sif had managed a lighten-ing spell on her (after three tries), and lifted her onto a blanket. Sif had then fetched a long, decorative spear from the corner, realizing that they could tie the corners of the blanket to the spear and then carry her thus, without disturbing her back or neck. She could even manage that herself, if she had to.

Now, Sif waited, her stomach clenched, her heart hammering. Every few minutes she would step up to Jane and feel her pulse.

At first it had beat quite steadily—but now it had picked up to a rapid pace. Sif just bit her lip, realizing that Loki had entered the fray.

"Please, please, please," Sif whispered, pressing her hands together and whispering into her fingers as she paced. "Please, please, please…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, battling back the memories that rose in her mind. That horde of savage dead, swarming around the statue of Thor, tearing at its legs, breaking at its arms, striking at its face…

Neither knowing nor caring that Sif had drifted away from the company every day these past years, wandering to that outer section of the city where the waterfalls sang, and the birds twittered in the gardens…

And she would sit in the shade of an ancient wall, in front of that noble statue, gaze up into his face, and talk to him. Usually about nothing—simply what she had done the previous afternoon, and what foolishness Fandral, Hogun and Volstaag had gotten into lately. But sometimes her heart would fill with a terrible ache, and she couldn't help but mention how empty Asgard now felt without the queen. And without him.

And she would gaze up at his unmoving face, shining in the sun, just wishing…wishing…

"Please, please," Sif gasped, her legs going weak so she had to stop walking. "Oh, please—"

Someone outside the door.

Her head snapped up, her eyes open. She spun to face the door, then snatched up a fire iron from beside the hearth.

The latch worked. And the door swung open.

Loki stood quietly on the threshold, right hand on the knob. He looked at her, and raised his eyebrows.

"Lady Sif," he said. "Someone to see you."

She stared at him. He didn't say anything—just nodded toward the hallway.

Sif dropped the fire iron. And she didn't hear it hit the floor.

She hurried toward the door, brushed past Loki, and darted into the darkened hallway, her heart hammering—but as if the world had stopped moving.

For an instant, she couldn't distinguish anything or anyone. But then, movement caught her eye off to her right. She spun…

A tall, young, bearded man, standing by the torch. He wore beaten armor and a long sword; his hair had been cropped close, and blood streaked his face. But even in the dimness, she could see the brilliance of his eyes—eyes blue as the sky.

He saw her.

He half stumbled, his lips parting.

"Sif!" he gasped.

And she ran to him.

Like a horse cut loose from its tether, she raced across the distance, heedless of the sound she made. Thor's face twisted—and he stepped toward her.

She leaped into his arms and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her in his mighty embrace and held her up—

And she kissed him.

She found his mouth with hers, and kissed him. Feverish, desperate. Relentless. She cradled his head in her hands, pressing deep only to break it and kiss him again and again. She didn't care if she shocked him, she didn't care if in a moment he would push her away and draw back with a sharp command…

He wrapped her up tighter. He took fistfuls of her dress.

He kissed her back.

Fire shot down her throat—she gasped as he leaned in to her, answering her, then nearly drowning her. His beard pleasantly scratched her lips and chin. He smelled of fire and dust and oak and metal polish, and tasted of salt.

Over and over they kissed, as if time meant nothing. As if they weren't standing in the halls of Death, with little hope of living beyond this very day. It didn't matter. None of it did.

Slowly, Thor lowered her back to the floor, and at last they parted to gasp in deep, startled breaths. She finally opened her eyes, and looked up at him.

"Sif!" he exclaimed quietly, beaming like the sun—tears spilling down his cheeks. "I am so very happy to see you."

"I missed you so much," Sif choked, leaning up to kiss his lips one more time—and he lingered on her, so that when she pulled back, he followed, and parted with reluctance.

"I was afraid for you," Thor sniffed, cupping her face in his hand. His brow furrowed brokenly. "Are you all right?"

"I am," she nodded quickly. "Are you?"

"Ahem," Loki cleared his throat.

Sif made herself turn and look back at him…

He rolled his eyes, still holding onto the door.

"Not to rush this _lovely_ moment, but we do have Helhounds on our heels," he said. "If anyone still cares."

"How did Sif come to be in your apartments?" Thor demanded.

"Oh, Hela gave her to me as a present," Loki answered flippantly. "So now I give her to you. Merry Christmas." He motioned inside. "Now, will you please come in so I can fetch my heart and we can be on our way?"

 _To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

STAVE TWELVE

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo,

Going out your door.

You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet…

There's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

-The Fellowship of the Ring

"What do you mean, fetch your heart?" Thor demanded, tugging on Sif's hand as they followed Loki into his room. A low fire burned in the hearth, and curtains had been pulled across all the windows. Loki cast a glance over the couch where a velvet drawstring bag sat waiting, then strode toward the bed.

"Ah. Thank you for making her ready, Sif," he said.

"Making who ready?" Thor followed—and Sif's hand grew slack in his, then let go. And Thor drew up to the foot of the bed…

To see Jane Foster lying there, wearing a white cotton nightgown and swathed in blankets. Dark bruises faded on her face, and she wasn't conscious.

"Jane!" Thor gasped, stepped hurriedly round the corner of the bed—

His chest met with Loki's palm—and it stopped him instantly.

"Do not. Touch," Loki bit out.

Thor's blood boiled, and his eyes flew to Loki's…

Whose expression had turned hard as polished steel, his eyes vivid and cold.

"What are you doing?" Thor growled. "Stand aside—let me go to her!"

"No one touches her without my leave," Loki replied, leaving his hand there. "Not now, and perhaps not ever."

"What the blazes are you talking about?" Thor cried.

"She is borrowing his heart," Sif said quietly.

Thor spun to stare at her—but Sif only gazed back, her face still flushed, then cast her attention to the rug. Thor twisted to look again at Jane.

"Why?"

"She was nearly dead when I found her," Loki said, slowly lowering his hand. "I was forced to take extreme measures."

"But…" Thor's head swam. "If you died, then she would die as well!"

"Effectively, yes," Loki said.

Thor bared his teeth, whirled and grabbed Loki's collar.

"And knowing this, you _still_ decided to put yourself in danger?"

"Oh, yes, forgive me, brother," Loki snapped, knocking Thor's hand loose. "Which would you rather I had _not_ done: saved her life or saved yours?"

Thor couldn't speak. Loki lifted his chin and briskly straightened his tunic.

"I have no intention of debating this," he stated. "You asked me to save her and I did. But the measures I had to take effectively forfeited any rights _you_ may have claimed. She belongs to me. Her life is effectively my own, and at the moment it hangs by a thread." His voice lowered to a deadly tone. "I will not have you or anyone else shake it loose. Not when we have such important things to do."

Thor swallowed hard, his gaze drifting over Jane again—then he fixed on Loki. His voice shook.

"You cannot let her die."

Loki blinked, his eyebrows drawing together.

"I suppose you forget that if _she_ dies then _I_ die." His look grew even colder, and he exchanged a glance with Sif. "Happy to know what's most important to you."

Thor's face filled with heat, and he closed his eyes.

"Loki—"

"Never mind," Loki brushed it off, turning away from him to adjust the blankets around Jane's legs. "Sif, you take that bag. We cannot stay in Asgard."

"Where will we go?" Sif asked, picking the bag up off the couch.

"Midgard," Thor announced. Loki's head came up, and he snorted in derision.

"What the devil for?"

"It is well defended," Thor answered. "The Mind Stone has now taken the form of a powerful being that intends to guard the earth—and a Midgardian has recently become the Sorcerer Supreme."

Loki straightened, suddenly giving him a wide, keen look.

"A Midgardian?"

"Mm," Thor nodded. "His name is Stephen Strange."

Loki stared at him for a long moment—then swallowed, and said nothing.

"A Midgardian calling himself a master of magic is an absolute effrontery," Sif cut in.

"That doesn't matter," Thor said impatiently. "But what matters is he may know of a way to find Father."

Loki raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"You do recall that there are very _few_ high powers on Midgard wouldn't happily see me murdered in my bed?"

"That's why you'll have to stay out of the way," Thor said. "And…Jane along with you, I suppose."

"Yes, I would suppose," Loki said sarcastically.

"Is there a place you can think of where we could remain a while without drawing attention?" Thor asked.

"One or two," Loki muttered. "But you wouldn't like any of them."

"I am not in the mood to be particular," Thor admitted.

Loki suddenly looked past him at the door.

His eyes took on an eerie light.

"Come here," he said through his teeth.

"What—" Thor started.

"I said _come here_ ," Loki grabbed Thor's hand and jerked him. Thor quickly turned and grabbed Sif's arm and pulled her with him.

Rumblings issued from out in the hall—a creeping hiss, like a pit of adders. And black smoke began seeping through the cracks in the door.

"She's trying to break my spells," Loki said. "We've no more time." He interlaced his fingers with Thor's and squeezed hard. "Midgard?" he bit out.

"Midgard," Thor confirmed, gripping Sif's hand.

"Very well," Loki sighed. He picked up Jane's limp hand, then bent down and pressed his forehead to hers. "Don't fail me now, _minhjarta."_

Thor felt a strange vibration in his chest. The world around him began to blur—

The door to Loki's room blasted open—

 _FLASH!_

And they were gone.

RRRRRRRRRRRRR

Space and time ripped past Loki's head as he held onto Thor and Jane and Sif with all his might. He kept his eyes shut, picturing their destination…

 _FLASH_.

He opened his eyes.

Darkness.

Then, a dim electric light. Stone paving beneath his feet. Cool air. The echo of their breath in a large, silent space. And the weight of the earth above their heads.

Loki glanced down to his right.

Jane lay amidst her pile of blankets on top of a white, rectangular slab of marble the size of a very tall man. Still asleep.

All around the room stood rows of these marble blocks, some with stone effigies of men and women lying on top of them, their hands placidly folded over still breasts. The floor was cobble, the low ceiling arched. And at the far end stood a small altar, behind which hung the wrenching image of a half-naked man with his hands and feet nailed to a cross. It was there that the electric light shone, reflecting off this shrine.

Loki pulled his left hand loose of Thor's, and rested his right hand on the marble slab where Jane lay.

"What is this place?" Thor asked, hushed.

"This, brother," Loki answered hoarsely. "Is a crypt."

"What _are_ these?" Sif whispered, turning to glance through the room.

"Memorials," Thor supposed. "For the dead."

"More than that," Loki said, leaning more heavily on the slab. "These _are_ the dead."

And the next moment, Loki crashed to his knees.

His vision faded out, and his heart slammed into his chest—he barely heard Thor call his name. All the heat drained out of his head, his hands went cold and he felt sick.

Thor fell to his knees beside him and grabbed his arm.

"Are you all right?"

Loki couldn't answer, just shut his eyes and closed his trembling fingers tight around Thor's sleeve.

"Come, come sit," Thor urged, and lifted him up.

"You…You shouldn't…" Loki tried. "Your broken bone…"

"It's nothing," Thor gritted, throwing Loki's arm around his shoulders and half carrying him toward the altar steps. There, he turned Loki and sat down with him. Loki landed heavily, swallowing repeatedly to keep from throwing up. Loki leaned against Thor's side, who kept his arm around Loki's waist.

"What's wrong?" Thor demanded. Loki kept his eyes shut, purposefully taking deep breaths.

"Overtaxed," he managed.

"What do you need?" Sif asked, and Loki heard her step up in front of him.

"To lie down," Loki decided. "Right here. And…And bring her here."

"Who? Jane?" Loki could feel Thor's frown. But Loki just nodded.

Thor started to get up.

"No, no, not you," Loki opened his eyes and grabbed Thor's shirt. "I'll not have you lifting anything."

"She barely weighs anything at all!" Thor objected.

"Shut up and listen to me for once," Loki barked, closing his eyes again. "Sif is fully capable."

"I will get her," Sif said quickly, turned and hurried to where Jane lay.

Loki then slowly turned himself to the right, fighting to stay conscious, even though his heartbeat fluttered like a bird's. Thor released him, then held him up as he dragged his feet up the stairs and then lay down parallel to the steps. Loki winced, pressing his hands to his chest.

"What is it?" Thor demanded, grabbing Loki's wrist.

"Ugh," Loki grunted, breathing rapidly. "Pain. Round my heart. I just…" He reflexively swallowed again, blinking his eyes open to stare up at the arched ceiling—and then Thor's blurry face. "This feels oddly familiar."

Thor's eyes flashed.

"Sif, bring her here!"

"I am coming," Sif replied quietly…

Loki glimpsed her as she came round to Loki's right side, and lowered to her knees. Loki shakily stretched out his right arm to the side, turning his head towards her as his breathing hitched...

Sif gently laid Jane down right beside Loki, letting Jane's head rest on his right shoulder.

Feverishly, Loki closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jane's temple, his left arm weakly coming across to take a fistful of her blankets…

And the next moment, the pain washed out of his chest, his tight breaths released, and warmth spread down through his whole body. He sighed painfully, his brow twisting as he turned onto his side and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Then, against his nose, he felt Jane's chilled skin also warm, and her own deep, calming sigh rushed through him. But his muscles still felt like water.

"Do you feel better?" Thor pressed.

"Give us a moment," Loki murmured, his eyes halfway opening. Thor shifted, and Loki could sense his uncertainty. But Sif knelt down on the altar with the bag, reached inside and drew out Loki's magic cauldron and set it on the stones. She took off her belt and tapped the buckle three times against the side of the cauldron. In a few seconds, it started to steam, and the scent of roasted meat and vegetables filled the tomb.

"Loki," Sif spoke up. "You didn't have any bowls in your room."

Loki moaned, shutting his eyes again.

"Just a moment," he said again. The other two fell silent and sat down cross-legged by the cauldron as Loki and Jane lay there on the hard slab. Loki took deep, purposeful breaths as the panic and pain drained out of his body, and her skin grew softer and warmer against his face. He could smell her, now. The dusky-floral scent of the bone-bath still hung in her hair, and she also carried a softer scent inherently. Like a lilac…

He slowly opened his eyes. Lifted his head a little, and looked down at her face. So close to his. And still bruised all down the right side. Such delicate features…her eyebrows slightly drawn together in faraway aching…

Loki drew in a breath. So did she. And for a long moment, he didn't move, mesmerized by that sensation.

"Loki," Thor prompted. "Do you feel better?"

Loki frowned, then stiffly raised up onto his elbow—though sliding his left hand around and beneath Jane's neck, to free his right arm and lower her down carefully.

"Yes," he grunted, settling her, then sitting up, but not moving from her side. He lifted his eyes up to the broken man on the cross, touched his fingers to his own forehead, then rubbed his hands together. "All right, let's see if I can conjure enough utensils so we don't have to eat like savages."

RRRRRRR

Thor had scarcely finished his fourth bowl of stew when Loki set his own bowl down and clapped his hands together.

"All right, Thor, sit on one of these tombs so I can get this armor off you and see what you've done to yourself."

"Loki, don't fuss," Thor muttered.

"I will absolutely fuss," Loki retorted. "You can't tell me you'd _rather_ walk around with a shattered rib?"

"Thor, let him heal you," Sif ordered.

Thor rolled his eyes, set his bowl down and climbed to his feet—unable to smooth out a grimace—and stepped over to the flat tomb where Jane had first lain. He had to hop slightly to sit up on it—which hurt like mad—but he bit his cheek and stayed silent.

"All right, lift your arms," Loki commanded, and Thor did so—though when he lifted the right one, a shaft of pain shot down his side and he gasped.

"Mhm," Loki huffed, taking hold of the breastplate buckles and unstrapping them. Soon, he'd loosened them all, and pulled the breastplate over Thor's head and arm, knocking him in the ear as he did.

"Ow, _Loki!"_ Thor barked.

"Oh, you're fine," Loki answered back, tossing the breastplate noisily on the floor. "Lift up your shirt."

Thor reached down with his left hand and tugged up the front of his shirt, exposing his stomach and ribs—and a huge, ugly bruise across the right side of his chest. Loki frowned at it, tilting his head. Thor studied him.

"You are pale," Thor remarked. "You have dark circles around your eyes."

"So do you," Loki muttered without looking at him, then pressed his left hand to Thor's injury.

Loki's cold hand shocked against Thor's fevered skin, and he twitched, letting out a sharp grunt.

"Sit still," Loki snapped, grabbing the front of Thor's shirt with his right hand.

"It. _Hurts_ ," Thor bit out.

"Sit still and it won't," Loki countered, starting to prod around against Thor's ribs.

Then—

Loki's thumb met the split in Thor's bone, and a white light flashed across Thor's vision.

Thor howled.

"In case you haven't figured it out, that bone is _broken!"_ Thor raged.

"Yes, very astute observation," Loki jerked on Thor's shirt, keeping his left hand where it was.

"Are you _trying_ to hurt me?" Thor demanded.

"Why would I do that?" Loki growled, tilting his head further so he could see.

"Loki, I'm sorry."

Loki paused, and he glanced sideways, up at Thor.

Thor let out a shaking sigh, trying to swallow the pain.

"I'm sorry I said that, back in Asgard," he said. "I did not mean to say that Jane's life mattered more to me than yours."

Loki blinked. Said nothing.

"You know I am not the most eloquent man in the realm," Thor added, smiled crookedly. "And I fail to think before I speak."

"Yes, you do at that," Loki muttered…but a slight smile crossed his lips. His hand softened against Thor's injury. And then, all at once, a deep, soothing sensation flooded through Thor's whole ribcage. He inadvertently sighed, and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward. For a long while, Loki stayed still, even as heat pulsed from his palm and into Thor's chest. Then, Loki took a breath and lifted his head.

"I'm not feeling well, again," he said. Thor opened his eyes.

"What is it?"

"I'm feeling a bit…faint," Loki shook his head, as if to clear it. "I'm going to lie down again. Sif can finish."

"Sif…?" Thor's eyebrows went up, but Loki turned and beckoned to her.

"Sif, please come here," he said. Sif stood up from where she sat on the altar and crossed the crypt, frowning.

"What?"

"Continue here with this _heitrsnua_. It's fairly elementary, just a clean break."

"All right," Sif said hesitantly, drawing up beside him. Loki took hold of her left hand in his and pressed her palm to Thor's side.

A chill raced through Thor's whole body, and his throat shut. Sif's eyes instantly flew to his.

"Just there," Loki said, then let go of her. "Call me when you've finished."

Out of the corner of his eye, Thor saw Loki trail back toward the altar, kneel down and stretch out beside Jane again. But Thor couldn't seem to pull the rest of his attention away from Sif's dark eyes.

"Does it still hurt you?" she asked quietly, even as heat began to throb from her palm, now. Thor managed a smile.

"No, Loki mostly finished."

"Good," Sif ducked her head and hid her own smile. "I'm quite a novice in comparison."

"You're doing fine," Thor assured her. "I can feel it."

Her head came up again and she gazed at him, and his smile faded. His gaze raced across her features, drawn toward her mouth, his own lips burning as he remembered…

He cleared his throat.

"I would…I would like you to come with me whilst I speak to the sorcerer," he said.

"Of course," Sif said right away.

"My first thought was to take Loki with me, for he can disguise himself, and leave you to protect Jane," Thor said. "But Loki seems too weak at the moment to manage the journey, however short. Especially when wearing an illusion."

"I agree," Sif nodded. "I will come with you."

The edge of Thor's mouth lifted again…

And he lowered his left hand, and laid it on top of hers. She blushed, and lowered her head again.

"Thank you, good Lady Sif," he whispered, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. She glanced sideways up at him, smiling a little once more.

"Always, my prince."

 _To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

STAVE THIRTEEN

"Home is behind

The world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow

To the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight

Mist and shadow

Cloud and shade

All shall fade

All shall fade."

-Merry, Return of the king

Again, Jane drifted aimlessly through a long darkness, catching snatches of sound as if through water, feeling touches as if she weren't in her own body. But finally, she began to hear music wandering around her. Some sort of strummed, string instrument, with a silvery tone. She pulled in a breath she could hear, and it felt immediate and close.

And she opened her eyes.

She lay on her back, wrapped up in blankets, staring up at an arched stone ceiling. She blinked slowly. It looked like a church—but dark, and chilly. She turned her head to her right.

Loki sat there on the floor, leaning back against an altar, the feet of a crucifix just above his head. And his legs lay underneath Jane's knees, and the blankets. But she still couldn't feel that.

In his lap and hands, he held a silver lute, whose surface swam like rivers. He held the slender neck in his right hand, and plucked the shimmering strings with his left. The tune sounded complicated, medieval, and mysterious; the notes echoed through the chamber.

"Where is Thor?" Jane's voice came out half as loud as she'd intended.

Loki stopped, and he looked at her. He studied her for a moment before speaking.

"How are you?"

She thought for a moment.

"My head is clearer," she said. "My chest doesn't hurt. Neither does my head. I'm…" She stretched her neck. "I'm stiff."

"Still nothing in your legs." Loki said it like a statement, but she nodded anyway.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Where's Thor? I…thought I heard his voice…"

Loki glanced down at his instrument and strummed it carelessly.

"Oh, he and Lady Sif are on an expedition to find the Sorcerer Supreme," he said grandly. "In hopes that he will lead them to wherever Odin is hiding."

"Sorcerer Supreme?" Jane repeated.

"Mm. A man named Stephen Strange," Loki answered.

" _Doctor_ Stephen Strange?" Jane lifted her head an inch. Loki frowned at her.

"You know him?"

"No, I don't know him," she said. "I know _of_ him. He's the most famous brain surgeon in the world. But I'd heard he had a terrible car accident and ruined his hands…"

Loki considered her for a moment, then diddled out a few notes on the lute again.

"So we're…Are we in New York?" Jane asked.

"Yes." Loki reached up and gently turned a peg.

"Where?"

"In a crypt I discovered during my previous jaunt to Midgard," Loki replied, starting to play again. "I told Thor he wouldn't like it. He and Sif were quite unnerved."

Jane slowly glanced to her left, where the rows of silent tombs stood.

"I've never been afraid of places like this," she murmured. "I've always thought they were beautiful."

"I thought so, too," Loki said. "And, remarkably, I still appreciated it then. In spite of everything."

Jane laid her head back down and looked at him as his fingers played lightly over the strings.

"Why are they looking for Odin?" Jane asked. "Where did he go?"

"Odin has been lost for four years," Loki replied. "I have been king in his stead."

Jane frowned.

"You?"

He shot her a look, and a smirk.

"Why, does that surprise you?" he asked. "Don't think my cloth is cut out to suit a king?"

"I…don't know…" Jane said uncertainly. Loki thumped the strings and looked at her directly.

"And who do you suppose _should_ have been king, if Odin was missing and your precious Thor decided to leave crown and kingdom so he could court you here on Midgard?"

"I…hadn't thought about it…" Jane murmured.

"Mm," Loki said, picking up his tune where he left off.

"I mean," she corrected. "I didn't know Odin was missing."

"'Course not," Loki said. "I played the part well. Even when Thor came back on one of his rare visits, he never suspected."

"You pretended to be Odin?"

"Yes," Loki said shortly.

"But you aren't pretending now," Jane observed carefully. "What happened?"

"A sorceress named Hela has invaded Asgard," Loki said, still playing. "She can kill you with a look. And she's determined to have the realm. So I rescued Sif and Thor and you, and together we must conjure something to stop her."

"And you think Odin will help?" Jane surmised.

"No, I don't," Loki shook his head once. "But Thor must try."

"Why don't _you_ want to try?" she asked. "He's your father, too."

Loki stopped again, and stared at her.

"Who told you that?"

Jane blinked.

"I'm…You're Thor's brother."

"And he never told you that Odin picked me up off a frozen rock in Jotunheim after my real father left me to die?" Loki asked keenly.

"I…No," Jane stammered, stricken. "He did?"

Loki watched her for a moment…

But instead of hardening, his gaze softened as something seemed to occur to him. He smiled cryptically, and turned back to his instrument.

But in that moment, a knot of dark, tangled emotions rolled through Jane's middle, then pushed their thorny ends out to her arms.

"That's terrible," Jane whispered.

"Indeed," Loki acknowledged frankly. "But that was more than a thousand years ago, and my real father is dead. So there it is."

"How can you say that?" Jane gasped—and that thorny darkness stabbed deeper. A tear trailed down her temple.

Loki's hand lifted from the strings and he looked at her—his eyebrows slowly drawing together.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I just don't understand how you can say that, how you can treat it so casually," Jane reached up and swiped away that tear, but another one spilled to replace it. "I mean, _faðir_ leaving you lying _outside_ , just a baby—just putting you down someplace out in the snow, in the dark, on the hard floor of some huge, strange building…" Jane shook, and swiped at her eyes again, unable to control herself as fear and helplessness swirled through her. "Crying and crying, with nobody listening, nobody can hear, and it's _so cold_ …"

 _"Jane_ ," Loki cut in, setting his lute aside and suddenly coming down to lean on his left elbow, taking hold of her right hand in his. She gave a shuddering gasp, her face twisting as she opened her eyes to find his. He gazed at her openly, searching her.

"How…"Loki murmured. "How did you know that?"

"I don't know," she said, watery. She swallowed. "I just…" She choked out another sob, lifting her left hand now to push angrily at her tears.

"Jane," Loki said, even quieter this time. "Look at me."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then made herself turn her head and look at him.

"It _was_ dark. And it was…cold," he said carefully. He gave a helpless smile. "And I did. I cried and cried and cried, and thought no one in all the nine realms could hear me."

Tears trailed down Jane's face. Loki lifted his eyebrows and leaned closer to her, as if sharing a secret, and interlaced their fingers.

"But someone _did_ ," he whispered. "Someone found me. And he took me home, to my mother." He gave her a real smile now, and a pointed look. "And, in spite of my bickering with Thor, and all the other nonsense that made me discontent and irascible all those years…" He shook his head. "It was nothing compared to the life I would have led as an ugly, runt Frost Giant. Even if I _had_ lived."

Jane's breathing hitched, but the sight of his smile spread warmth through her, his words soothing the aching tangles in her chest. Loki gently switched her hand to his left, hesitated, then reached out and brushed her tears away with his thumb.

"But you're…You're _marvelous_ to cry for it," he said. "And for me. I don't think anyone else ever has."

For a moment, he rested his hand on her face. The soft heat from it radiated down through her neck and into her chest, banishing the pain altogether. Again, Loki stroked a tear away, his smile disappearing as he locked upon her eyes. As if he'd never seen her before.

"Why is this happening?" Jane whispered. "Why…Why did I see that?"

His eyebrows lifted.

"Because you're carrying my heart," he said simply. "Part of it, anyhow."

"Why?" Jane frowned. He drew his hand back, but laid it on her hand again as it rested on the blankets.

"Because you needed it to live," he said.

The tears raced down her cheeks again as she battled to suppress a sob. She squeezed Loki's fingers, and he returned the pressure.

"I'm…I'm sorry I hit you," she gasped. "Your mom had just died and I hit you in the face."

"Oh, Miss Foster…" Loki cried softly, clearly trying to laugh. "Come now, you know I deserved that."

Jane lifted her left hand and covered her eyes, unable to stop crying.

"Ah, now this is my fault," Loki muttered. "Thrusting a thousand years of wanton self-pity on you—nobody could do much to withstand that." He slid closer and slipped his arm under her head, urging her to turn toward him. Absently, Jane realized what he was asking—how she certainly should _not…_

But everything in her suddenly wanted— _had to—_ be nearer to him. So, still unable to control anything past her waist, she did turn, and laid her head on his chest. He brought his arm around and adjusted her, then wrapped her up. He was warm.

And when his heartbeat resounded against her head, strength thrummed through her like a deep, musical note.

"All right, then," Loki said, his voice vibrating against her. "I'm always a proponent for a good dose of well-deserved vengeance. You tell _me_ something terrible. The worst thing you can think of."

Jane's tears dripped onto Loki's shirt. She rubbed her thumb back and forth, back and forth across a seam, listening to the tide of his breath.

"My dad died in a car accident." She closed her eyes. "In Sweden, when I was seventeen. He ran off the road, and then froze to death."

Loki took in a breath as if he'd been stuck by a thorn. And then he let it out like a long, low shudder.

When he picked up her hand, his fingers quivered. He squeezed it, and then pressed it to his breastbone.

"I am sorry for that," he whispered.

 _To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

STAVE FOURTEEN

"Such is the nature of evil.

Out there in the vast ignorance of the world

It festers and spreads.

A shadow that grows in the dark.

A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night.

So it ever was, so it ever will be.

In time,

All foul things come forth."

-Thranduil, The Hobbit

"And he calls himself a sorcerer," Thor muttered, shutting the large green door behind him and marching away from the oddly-shaped brick building. Sif swept in behind him, matching his pace. Thor barely noticed where he put his feet, hardly paid attention to the roar of the New York traffic all around him.

"Can't even tell if my father is _alive_ or not, let alone what realm he is in," Thor continued to storm, weaving through the people choking the sidewalks.

"Perhaps he will keep looking, as he said," Sif offered. "Perhaps we could come back tomorrow and ask—"

"We've no time for that," Thor cut her off, a deep pain in his chest. "Recall what else he said: he cannot even see Asgard, now."

"So what are we going to do?" Sif pressed.

"Something I should have done right away," Thor muttered. "Ask my brother."

Together, they hurried back the way they had come, through the chaos and cacophony that Thor had quickly grown to despise today, and returned to the church. They passed through the gate and into the green, quiet garden littered with leaning marker stones, came to the small, weathered back door, ducked through and shut the door behind them. They made their way down a narrow stone staircase, peering ahead for the light down in the crypt.

But as soon as Thor's feet hit the floor of the crypt, he stopped. Then, he threw out his arm and caught Sif before she could go any further.

"What?" Sif whispered.

"Loki sets traps to protect himself every time he goes to sleep," Thor answered. "If he's resting…"

"Mm," Sif agreed.

Thor carefully moved forward, around a pillar, and peered into the main room toward the altar.

He stopped again.

Loki lay on his back near the altar, with Jane in his arms. Jane's head rested on his chest, her arm around his waist. Both had their eyes closed…

And a little green light hovered over them.

Neither stirred. Their clothes and hands draped over each other in a natural, quiet way—still and perfect and grave. They looked like a painting fit to hang in the tower of a castle.

Or one of the stone memorials that lined the crypt.

Thor watched them for a long moment, and swallowed. Sif said nothing.

Finally, Thor took a deep breath—it shook slightly—and lifted his hand. He stretched out into the open air, searching for a familiar feeling…

A sensation like electricity touched his fingertips. And the more he pressed, the sterner it felt. He closed his hand to a fist, and rapped against it with his knuckles three times.

Loki's eyes flew open. He sucked in a breath, then lifted his head and looked right at him.

Jane did exactly the same. Exactly.

They both turned, unwound from each other's arms, and propped themselves up on their elbows. The green light went out.

"Thor!" Jane called in surprise, her voice hoarse.

"Hang on," Loki called, equally hoarse, and cleared his throat. He sat up all the way, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Then he held up his hands and clapped.

The electricity near Thor's hand disappeared.

"All right, you may come," Loki beckoned to them. Together, Thor and Sif strode closer, up to the altar.

"Jane, how are you?" Thor asked quickly. "You look pale."

"I'm feeling better," she smiled up at him—though it looked strained, and the light had faded from her eyes. "I'm…" She reached down to try to untwist the blankets around her legs—

Loki immediately reached over and did it for her, and then shifted her legs so she could sit up properly, which she did. Jane laughed awkwardly—and it rang with buried pain.

"Easy, easy," Loki urged as she sat up, and then Loki shifted so his upper body was halfway behind hers, and she could lean back on him.

Thor just watched all of this, utterly disconcerted.

Loki took a breath and lifted his head, and addressed Thor.

"Well, what did the great Sorcerer Supreme deduce?"

Thor's attention darted back and forth between Jane and Loki—but Jane just watched Thor in return, eyebrows raised, listening. As if she didn't have the strength for any of her usual rapid-fire questions…

"He doesn't know where Father is," Thor finally said to Loki. "And…I suspect you already knew he wouldn't."

Loki gave him a small smile, and lifted an eyebrow.

"You aren't exactly talking to a novice sorcerer yourself at the moment," he pointed out. Thor heaved a sigh, and exchanged a glance with Sif.

"You already looked for him," Sif realized, sighing also.

Loki ran his right hand through his hair.

"You're correct, of course," he said. "Given four years and the use of all the most magical objects in Asgard—if anyone in all the realms would know where Odin was…it would be me."

Thor moaned and scrubbed his fingers against his own shorn hair.

"You had a plan concerning where to go already, didn't you?" he said. "Before I insisted on coming to Midgard."

Loki looked at him wryly.

"Your reputation does not do you justice, brother," he said. "You're much smarter than you look."

"Shut up," Thor snorted.

"What did you have in mind?" Sif asked. Loki gazed up at her, the levity fading from his face. Then, he gave a dark look to Thor.

"I have been aware for quite some time that Hela was attempting to break free from the prison realm where she's been held since before any of our births. And I've been doing everything in my power to keep her contained."

"Who is she?" Jane asked quietly, glancing sideways at him. "Where did she come from?"

Loki held Thor's gaze. Thor frowned at him.

"She came from Asgard," Loki answered.

Thor looked at Sif—but her surprise mirrored his.

"Asgard? How? When?" Thor demanded. Loki's expression took on a hint of something like…sadness.

"She is Odin's sister. His _elder_ sister."

"His sister!" Thor cried. "Why have we never heard of her?"

"Because she began to practice dark magic at a very young age," Loki explained blackly. "Playing with necromancy and possession. While still a princess, she began illicit affairs with several dark elves that had escaped the destruction of Svartalfheim, and had quite a few illegitimate children. We met only one of them," Loki rolled his eyes. "She also began collecting powerful objects from all the realms and piling them in Asgard's vaults—and the one she desired most was the _Frostskokkr_ of Jotunheim."

A chill ran down Thor's spine.

"And the day she became queen, she broke the long-standing peace treaty with Jotunheim and attacked it." Loki raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "She was so reckless, so careless with her soldiers that she cost Asgard more than half its army—and when Laufey realized he no longer had to fear Asgard, he began to rise. He gathered strength, began attacking other realms, and Hela engaged him there, also. Spreading her forces thin—and sending her own brothers to the front lines. Her brothers Vili and Vé were killed on the same day—and Odin lost his eye to Laufey."

Thor drifted closer to Loki, and sat down on the altar in front of him. Hardly breathing as he listened.

"Odin finally went to the Light Elves and pleaded for help," Loki went on. "And they agreed to break their solemn vow of isolation to help Odin overthrow Hela. They succeeded. And Odin bound her on a forsaken realm since called Helheim, where she's remained ever since." Loki shrugged. "But she is a powerful sorceress. It was only a matter of time before she found a way to escape, and try to take back what she believes is hers."

"But she won't stop there," Sif said. Loki shook his head.

"I doubt she will."

"So what is your plan?" Thor pressed.

"We are getting stronger," Loki said, tilting his head toward Jane. "But we're not strong enough yet to meet her in open war. We need _you_ to be able to fight again."

"I can fight," Thor protested. Loki was already shaking his head.

"Swinging a sword is not fighting. Not when you can consider what you can truly do."

"In that case, I can't do anything," Thor shot back. "Not without Mjollnir."

A strange smile passed across Loki's face. Thor instantly frowned at him.

"What is _that_ look for?"

"Brother dear, what was Mjollnir?" Loki asked.

"A hammer of war, forged in the heart of a dying star—"

"No," Loki prodded him with his foot. "Remember your lessons. What _was it?"_

"I…don't understand," Thor confessed.

"What is it that called down the lightning, that sent Mjollnir here and there—that called it back to you?" Loki asked. Thor opened his mouth, then shook his head and laughed helplessly.

"I don't know. I haven't ever thought of it."

Loki rolled his eyes again.

"Give me your hand," he stretched out his toward Thor. Thor held up his left hand—

Loki swatted it away.

"Your _right_ hand, idiot."

"How was I to know?" Thor barked back, but obeyed. Loki pressed his palm to Thor's.

"What are you doing?" Jane wondered.

"Now," Loki instructed. "Close your eyes, and imagine bringing lightning down into Mjollnir."

"But I don't—"

"I know you don't have it—use your imagination," Loki cut in. Thor heaved another sigh, then shut his eyes. And despite his protest, it _wasn't_ difficult to imagine. He had handled Mjollnir so much and so often, it always waited at the ends of his fingers, even if it wasn't there…

ZAP!

A bright blue flash forced Thor's eyes open—

Just in time to see a burst of lightning shoot from his palm into Loki's.

He jerked his hand back. His heart bashed against his ribs.

"What was that?" Jane cried, sitting up further. Thor just stared at Loki—who grinned back at him.

"The power isn't in the hammer, Brother," Loki said quietly. "It's in _you_."

"But…that means he can learn to use it!" Sif cried, stepping up next to them. "Can you teach him?"

Loki just watched Thor—as if considering.

"Perhaps," he said. "If he would listen to me."

Shivers raced all over Thor's skin, and his palm tingled wildly. He brought his hand up and stared at it, flexing his fingers, his breathing unsteady. Finally, he turned to Loki again.

"I will listen," he vowed. "Teach me."

Loki was silent and still for another moment. Jane watched Loki's profile, her brow furrowed.

"Very well," Loki nodded. "But not here."

"Where, then?" Sif asked. Loki smiled crookedly.

"The only place in all the realms where the people are still fond of me," he said, wrapping his arm around Jane's waist and reaching his left hand out to grab Thor's wrist. "Take hold of Sif. We're going to Alfheim."

 _To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

STAVE FIFTEEN

"Go not to the elves for counsel,

For they will say both no

And yes."

-JRR Tolkien

Jane blinked. The blaze of light faded and her eyes re-adjusted…

Her lips parted, and her fingers curled tighter around Loki's collar.

They stood before a great, arched stone gate, which was wrapped round with grape vines that shimmered with reds and gold leaves. An ancient wood surrounded them: white-barked beech trees stretched their pale, mighty arms to the heavens—Jane couldn't see their heights. The leaves glimmered gold, and many of them rained softly down around the group like snow, and covered the ground in a colorful carpet. The cool air smelled of passed rain, and the fresh musk of autumn. Sunlight beamed down in golden shafts between the gaps in the towering canopy. Green ferns rested amid the feet of the great trees, and vines entwined with them, and embraced the smooth trunks. Ivy vines also draped over the wall before them, and beyond the twisting gate waited higher and thicker woods.

Loki, who cradled Jane in his arms, stepped forward. His feet swished through the fallen leaves. Thor and Sif followed. The branches rustled all around them—as if the trees were muttering to each other at the sight of them. Jane wrapped her arm tighter around Loki's neck.

"There's writing around the gate," Jane noticed. "What does it say?"

"'Speak friend and enter,'" Thor murmured, narrowing his eyes at the stone.

"Wh…What?" Jane stammered. "Really?"

Sif frowned.

"Is this some kind of riddle?" she asked. "Speak friend…"

"And enter," Jane cut in. _"Mellon?"_

Silently, the elvish gates swung open.

She stared at them, suddenly unable to speak.

Loki's head came around, and his eyes flashed at her. She looked straight back at him, her mouth working—

For an instant, Loki studied her, and his attention darted over her whole face. Then, he gave her a low, wry smile. Heat filled her face.

"Let's go," Thor growled from behind them. But Loki didn't look away from Jane, and she couldn't look away from him. Finally, though, Loki faced out ahead, and followed Thor and Sif through the gates, carrying Jane with him.

"Wait," Loki whispered, looking up through the treetops. "Stop."

"Why?" Thor asked, turning to frown at him. Loki stayed where he was. Sif drew nearer to Thor's side. None of them said anything.

Slowly, the gates shut behind them.

"Loki Aelfwine."

The voice came from up above, and to the left. Jane's head jerked up…

And she suddenly saw a being unlike any she'd ever seen in her life.

He sat amidst the branches of the trees as easily as if he reclined in a chair by the fire. He wore light clothes embroidered and patterned like autumn leaves, draping all about him but framing his slender, graceful form. Shining golden bracers hugged his arms, amber jewels sparkled at his throat and upon his long, white fingers. He had long golden hair with a tinge of red and edges of orange. Upon his head he wore an elegant crown twisted like vines and decked with scarlet berries and yellow leaves. His pale face was angular and striking, with hawk-like, dark eyebrows; ageless, penetrating golden eyes, a sharp nose and a delicate mouth. He tilted his beautiful head, and regarded Loki first, then the others in the group, one by one.

And when his gaze landed on Jane, she was certain her heart stopped.

"Alfheah Gandr," Loki replied, inclining his head. "May the sun never set upon the realm of your fathers."

The elf considered them for another moment, then shifted and slid silently down from the tree. His long tunic flowed behind him like a banner. His feet, booted in soft leather, landed almost without sound, and he strode up to them. He stood a head taller than Thor, and the shafts of sunlight caught upon the hidden gems in his raiment, and glittered like daylight stars—and cast a brilliant halo upon his magnificent head. Again, he cast his gaze upon each one of them in turn—keen and bright.

"Lady Sif, daughter of Wischard and Svanhild," the elf said, his voice smooth as pearl. "Prince Thor, son of Odin and Frigga. And…" The elf looked at Loki, and smiled quietly. "King Loki, son of Frigga." And then he said something in elvish to Loki—it lilted and sang and purred all at the same time, like flowers upon the wind. Loki inclined his head—and he answered. Jane stared at him as the ancient, feathery, complex language turned easily upon his mouth. Then, suddenly, the elf looked right at Jane.

"My friend tells me you are from Midgard," the elf said, his sunrise eyes burning through her. "How fares the land of Adam?"

"It's…" Jane tried, forcing her voice to work. "It isn't as pretty as this is."

The elf weighed her response for a moment—then suddenly smiled at her. It transformed his face like the dawn. He looked back at Loki, reached up and slipped his hand around Loki's neck.

"Welcome home, _Seldo_ ," the elf said, laughing—and Loki laughed in return, leaned forward—

And the elf bent down, and pressed his forehead briefly to Loki's.

"Come," the elf grasped Loki's shoulder, and addressed the other two. "You are weary, and in need of light."

"Thank you, _Otorno_ ," Loki grinned at him. The elf gave another unexpected, sparkling look to Jane, turned and strode into the wood, his tunic rippling behind him like foliage in the wind. Loki and Thor exchanged a glance—Thor was frowning, but Loki just grinned at him, and followed the elf.

"Am I dreaming?" Jane whispered, leaning her head back again to gaze up at the infinite canopy.

"When you're walking in Alfheim," Loki murmured to her. "…you can never quite be sure."

Jane glanced at him, slightly frightened—and he winked at her. And together they trailed after the elf deeper into the autumn forest.

VVVVVV

For a long while, they wove between the beeches, following a path only the elf could distinguish. The silence of the wood pressed in around them—again, as if the trees themselves leaned in to listen to any words they might speak.

At last, they passed through yet another arch, and into a small clearing. Purest sunlight poured down into it, illuminating the leaves of the young trees like torches, and flashing through the spraying water of the three fountains. Beyond the courtyard stood a pale stone building that looked itself like branches and roots—its pillars and walls were carved with vines and leaves, delicately interlocking in arches that then joined with living trees in the upper stories. Jane couldn't tell where the building—a kind of palace—began, and where it ended. And within a large front doorway sat three more elves: women, this time. Tall, slender women with hair that cascaded down around their chairs in rivers of ebony, red, and gold light. They wore dresses the color of swimming flame, their comely faces tilted toward each other. They held long stringed instruments in their graceful hands, and they played upon them—a melody timeless and old—aching with longing and the memories of a thousand years.

Instruments _just like_ the one Loki had been playing.

And then, the elvish woman with hair of shimmering ebony—like a waterfall of midnight—opened her rosy mouth and began to sing.

Jane couldn't understand the words—but they suddenly pierced her through the heart, and she couldn't breathe. She stared, transfixed.

Loki's footsteps stalled as they approached, and out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw him swallow as the song washed over them. Gandr, their guide, paused and stood there, his hands clasped behind him, and did not move. Thor and Sif drew up beside Loki, equally caught in the spell. The elvish woman's fingers played across the strings, and her voice swayed and lifted, penetrating Jane's mind with images of starlight, of silvery meadows bathed in moonshine; of a wintry forest sparkling with frost…

Jane's heart panged within her until it became unbearable. She leaned her face close to Loki's, touched her nose to his temple, and whispered as softly as she could:

"What is she singing about?"

Loki swallowed again, and drew in a careful breath.

"It is the Lay of Eldian—an elvish prince," he whispered back. "He loved a woman from Midgard. He forsook his people, and married her. But she died giving birth to his son…and Eldian perished of a broken heart."

Jane said nothing. Loki turned his head, and looked at her. The elvish sunlight caught in Loki's emerald eyes, illuminating every shade of green in their depths. Again, Jane stopped breathing.

Then, at last, the music ceased, like the lifting of clouds. Jane blinked, her face growing hot, and looked away. But she felt Loki still gazing at her.

"Loki, you remember my _vesse_ , Vellanin," Gandr stepped closer to the black-haired elf, and held out his hand to her. She smiled up at him, set her instrument aside, took his hand and arose. She was as tall as Thor—and her eyes a vivid violet. Loki, Thor and Sif all bowed before her. She smiled at them too, and inclined her head. Then, she gave a twinkling look to Loki.

"Of course I remember Loki," she said, her voice like birdsong in the distance. "What brings you to Alfheim, _Hrafnkind?"_

"Hello, Vella," Loki grinned. "I could never forget how beautiful your voice is."

"Thank you, Silvertongue," she arched a playful eyebrow at him.

"And I wish we had come under better circumstances," Loki continued, his smile falling away. "But, as I'm sure you have seen, Asgard has fallen into darkness."

The two elves' expressions clouded, and they nodded.

"Indeed," Gandr said. "Hela _Nuuruhuine_ has overtaken the realm and driven you out."

"And my father has been lost for four years," Thor added, stepping forward. "Loki has been ruling in our stead."

"Yes, we know," Vellanin smiled a little.

"Do you seek sanctuary with us?" Gandr asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

"We do," Loki answered gravely. "Just for a time. And I…I know we cannot draw you out of Alfheim on behalf of Asgard's wars."

"You cannot," Gandr said sadly. "Drawing open our borders in such a way would make us vulnerable to the darkness and death we have so long staved off. We are happy for you to stay amongst us for as long as you have need. But when you leave, we cannot follow."

"I understand," Loki nodded. Gandr and Vellanin exchanged a look, and then Vellanin addressed them.

"Come into our house," she invited. "We will find you a place to rest, and you shall have food and drink…" she glanced at Thor, with a gently-mocking look. "…and a bath, if you so wish."

"We do so wish," Sif said quickly. "Thank you."

Both Gandr and Vellanin chuckled, and turned to cross the courtyard to another door. Loki shifted Jane in his arms, and together the newcomers followed the elves into the house of Gandr.

 _To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

STAVE SIXTEEN

"It is not the strength of the body that counts,

But the strength of the spirit."

-JRR Tolkien

Together, they passed through a woven gate and into tall, airy halls adorned with garlands and ivy. Their feet pattered softly against the smooth, pale flagstones, their sound accompanying the little playful fountains that bubbled in the corners. They rounded a bend, and Jane could hear the deep rumble of water coming from somewhere unseen, and the air cooled pleasantly. Vellanin then stopped and turned to face them, clasping her graceful hands in front of her.

"The Midgardian lady may stay here," she gestured to a white door, which stood ajar. "I will have one of my servants come to attend her, and sleep in the room with her."

Loki carried Jane over the threshold of a large, cool, open room. The stone floors here were partially covered with thin green rugs embroidered with silver patterns of deer running through the woods. Across from where Loki and Jane stood, a long wall bore tall, narrow windows with wispy white curtains that fluttered in the breeze. The stone walls themselves looked like trees, and they entangled their branches overhead to create a fantastic ceiling. Beyond the windows, a river tumbled through smooth black rocks beneath the thick shade of the beeches. Straight ahead of them, with its head against the right-hand wall, stood a broad bed swathed in dark-pink blankets and white pillows, half-canopied with more wispy curtains. Slender lanterns of vines hung from thin strands from the ceiling, and within them flickered bright flamelight that looked like chips of the sun. To the far left in the corner waited a white vanity and mirror, laid across with several flowing, pastel-colored dresses. Beside it stood a marble bathtub, and above it a window of fogged glass poured golden sunlight down. Just to their left, an elegant fireplace covered in leafy garlands held a low autumn fire in its crackling throat. The room smelled of lavender and the sweet musk of burning peat-bog.

Loki's arms tightened around Jane.

"Where is my room?" he asked Vellanin.

"It is your own room, _Lindo_ —the one in which you sleep when you come to us," Vellanin answered softly, watching him. "Why do you fear for her so?"

Loki looked gravely back at her.

"At the moment…she is my _indo-_ _kolindo_."

Gandr leaned his head into the room, studying Loki intently—as did his wife. Jane swallowed.

"I understand," Vellanin nodded. "Still, no harm shall come to her here. And your own room is not far."

Loki did nothing for a moment, then nodded. He turned, approached the bed, turned, bent and set Jane down.

"Come, I'll…I'll arrange the pillows," Loki grunted, holding onto her with one arm whilst propping the pillows up for her to lean against.

"It's okay," Jane smiled, blushing as she pushed herself back into the pillows. "Thanks."

With a quick sigh, Loki straightened up…

And Jane realized he still had hold of her left hand. His eyebrows drew together. His fingers tightened on hers.

She answered the pressure.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "If…you will."

Loki glanced over at Vellanin and Gandr, then back at her.

Jane nodded quickly.

Loki gave her a brief smile. But still his fingers grew tighter.

"If…" Jane ventured. "If you're…Why don't you have her stay with me? Vella…Vellanin?"

"I will, Lindo, if you wish," Vellanin said earnestly, stepping closer. "I will set myself as her servant."

Loki threw her a somewhat trapped—but earnest—look.

Vellanin smiled at him.

"I am happy to, _alskling_ ," she said.

Loki swallowed, then looked down at Jane.

"She'll take care of you," he said.

Jane smiled back, and nodded. Loki finally released her hand.

It was only then that Jane saw Thor, still standing outside with Sif—watching everything they had been doing and saying. His brow was furrowed, and his blue eyes pierced her. Jane's smile fell away.

"Come, I'll show the rest of you to your chambers," Gandr invited, beckoning to Loki. Loki gave Jane one last glance before following the elf master out of the room. Thor and Sif fell in behind them, and soon their footsteps faded away down the corridor.

"Now," Vellanin called Jane's attention, and gave her a cheerful smile. "Which would you like first? A bath, food…or both at the same time?"

VVVVVVVVV

Thor lay on his back in the soft grass, listening to the night wind whisper through the tall stalks and the trees beyond the meadow. The moonlight had turned the grass to silver, and over him arched the great banner of the heavens, flooded with billions of stars and cloudy purple nebula. It had been an age since he'd visited Alfheim. And somehow, he had forgotten the eternal, piercing, vast brilliance of its skies—even at night. For in the realm of the light elves, the land could never truly grow dark. He lay in silence, his head pillowed in his hands, as a nightingale sang its lonely song amidst the shadow of the woods.

Footsteps through the grass. Thor didn't turn—he recognized the rhythm of the tread.

Loki's tall, slender form drew near, and his shadow fell across Thor—his head eclipsed the moon, creating a silver halo around his black hair. Without saying anything, Loki knelt down on Thor's right side, turned over and lay on his back, perpendicular to Thor, adjusting so he could rest his head on Thor's chest.

Thor, stunned by the innocent and boyish contact, felt something stagger in his chest, and he didn't dare move. As if he didn't notice, Loki folded his hands on his own chest and let out a long sigh.

Slowly settling into the feeling of Loki's head lying thus, Thor gazed up at the innumerable stars, tracing their unfamiliar patterns, marveling at the softness around the edges of the sky.

Suddenly feeling a deep, unaccountable pain inside his chest somewhere.

"Do you remember how we used to lie like this on the Asbru when we were boys," Loki finally murmured. "And argue about the constellations?"

Startled, Thor chuckled.

"I…Yes, I do," he admitted. "I was just thinking of that. We'd get in the most terrific fights."

"Yes," Loki mused. "Imagine if we'd both been lying the same direction, instead of at odd angles…Perhaps we wouldn't have fought at all."

Thor's brow furrowed. And he fell silent as his brother's words sank through him.

"Thor?" Loki asked softly.

"Hm?"

"What have you been doing while you were on Midgard?"

"Oh," Thor drew in a deep breath, and sighed again. Loki's head rose and fell on his chest. "I traveled a good deal with Stark, and with Banner. I fought with them again, when Stark accidentally created a demon machine that tried to kill everyone on Midgard."

Thor waited for Loki to make a sarcastic comment, but he said nothing. So Thor went on.

"I do not have much in common with either of them, however, so…I began sparring and running some days with Steven Rogers. The one they call Captain America."

Again, Thor waited for a snide remark from Loki—but Loki only furrowed his brow. That pain knotted around in Thor's chest again.

"I honestly don't know why I chose him as a companion rather than the others, but…Sometimes I imagined that he reminded me of someone."

"Who?" Loki whispered. Thor sighed again, then decided to be honest.

"Balder," he said softly. "Before he went mad."

Loki closed his eyes. Thor bit the inside of his cheek. The wind whispered through the grass, swirling all around them with a sound almost like sadness.

"You also courted Jane," Loki finally said.

"I did," Thor replied, shifting his shoulders. "She is good, and kind. Even if she is entirely without any battle sense."

"What did you expect?" Loki wondered, lifting an eyebrow. "She's a thirty-six year old Midgardian woman who studies the stars."

Thor shifted, more sadness weighing on his chest.

"And…I love her," he murmured. "But, try as I might to forget it, I have always known…" His voice lowered to almost nothing. "…that I would someday have no choice but to return to Asgard. And she cannot be a queen."

Loki turned his head toward Thor, and frowned carefully at him.

"Then why did you go to Midgard?" Loki asked him. "Why did you leave in the first place?"

Thor briefly covered his own eyes with his hand.

"Perhaps the same reason you took the throne instead of returning to your cell," he muttered. "We'd failed, Loki. The enemy came in and caught us off guard—they came in and laid waste to our kingdom and killed our mother. We neither of us had proven ourselves worthy of our titles, let alone our family name. We let it happen." Thor let his hand fall, his view of the endless stars clouded by tears. His voice shook. "I was afraid. I was afraid to be king, afraid to even be a prince of Asgard. And I knew I…I could not return to my home and my birthright until I had proven myself. Somehow."

"Mm," Loki murmured. "And all that time, there I was believing that some fair maiden had caused you to lose _your_ mind, too."

"Not quite," Thor chuckled, swiping at his eyes. "Though, to be fair…There _I_ was, all that time, believing you were dead."

"I was dead," Loki whispered.

Thor frowned.

"I thought…" he started. "I thought it was a trick. Something you'd conjured to escape…"

"And how could I have done that?" Loki pushed his shoulder into Thor's side. "I have quite a few interesting abilities, but surviving a blade getting shafted right through my middle has _never_ been one of them."

At that, Thor went very still.

"Was it a spell, then?" Thor wondered carefully. "Dark magic? Or…something in Svartalfheim you didn't account for?"

Loki made a slight face.

"Sif asked me this question," he replied quietly. "I didn't tell her."

Thor watched his brother.

"Will you tell me?"

Loki sighed again—the strained sound traveled through Thor's side—and shut his eyes.

"I remember excruciating pain," he began. "Losing sense in my legs, my back, then being unable to breathe. And then everything went dark. And when I opened my eyes, I found myself lying in a meadow very much like this one, surrounded by a golden wood. But there were no birds, and no sounds of water. Only a strange wind in the trees and the grass. I stood up, and I listened all around me, but I heard nothing else. Then…" Loki's voice grew hushed. "I saw him. Standing at the far end of the clearing. His long robes—robes of starlight—moved by the wind. His face was so…so radiant I couldn't see it. It hurt my eyes to look at him. And I realized that in the folds of his robes were all the realms: living realms that stirred on the fabric—and the whole of Asgard was but a finger's breadth. I stood where I was and couldn't move. He crossed the grasses and came to me, and the light around him shone all over me. And in that light…I looked shredded and dirty and broken. And I felt it, too. He bent his head, and he looked _into_ me. And somehow I…I _felt_ every single one of my flaws…like cracks in glass. And if he looked at me like that for one more moment, I'd simply shatter apart. But then…he said my name." Loki took a shuddering breath. "'Loki, son of Laufey. What are you doing here?' And his voice hurt me—I could feel it in my blood. But I managed to answer, 'I don't know. I was just in a battle, and Thor was in danger, so I tried to protect him.' And he didn't say anything for such a long time, that light cutting through me, I…I wanted to get on my knees and just hide my face. And then…he said ' _Min sonr,'_ and reached his hand out to me. 'My name is Eru. And I do not want you to die.'"

Thor's heartbeat picked up, but he dared not say anything or even move. Loki stared up at the sky, seeing nothing, his eyes wide and stunned.

"I asked him if I was dying," Loki breathed. "He told me that yes, I was. And I had two choices to make. I could…I could accept his forgiveness for all the wrong I had done, and allow him to heal me…" Loki's throat choked shut and he stopped, and swallowed. "Or I could reject him, and pass into the land of shadow. Alone. I could…" Loki swallowed again, squeezing his eyes shut. "I could hardly bear to think of it, to listen to what he said. I've never been in such pain. Mostly because I…I finally realized I didn't deserve forgiveness. I was selfish and cruel and I… _I_ certainly had never forgiven anyone. I didn't _deserve_ anything. But he was going to give it to me anyway, just because I asked, without…" Loki let out a broken sigh. "I did go down on my knees, then. And I can't remember what I said. But he knelt in front of me and put his hands on my head, and…"

Loki fell silent. Thor watched his profile.

"He forgave you."

Loki blinked, and stared at the heavens. The light of the stars and the moon reflected in his eyes.

"He did," he breathed.

Thor almost didn't dare speak. But his curiosity overpowered him.

"What was your other choice?"

"He told me," Loki murmured. "That I could come with him to Valhalla right then, and live with him in sunlight forever. Or…" Loki closed his hands over his chest. "I could come back here, and stop the darkness of death from covering the realms."

"He told you of Hela?" Thor realized.

"He did," Loki said. "Everything about her. And…a great deal more."

Another question leaped onto Thor's lips—but then the thought of it shuddered in his heart. He couldn't make himself ask it for a long moment. And when he did, he could hardly summon any volume.

"Did he tell you if we will live?"

Loki's gaze grew distant. He didn't reply.

A chill ran through Thor's bones.

"And yet…" Thor ventured. "You still came back."

Loki was silent for so long that Thor thought he might not answer. Then, Loki's eyebrows drew together, a great sorrow filling his expression.

"I did."

Thor's throat constricted.

"You regret it?" he asked, a sharp, unexpected ache traveling through his ribs.

Loki's expression cleared.

"No," he said. "Because I've finally come to know what you've always known, Thor Odinson." He drew a deep, calm breath. "You are the brother of my heart. And I'll not leave you behind yet."

Thor swallowed hard as tears trailed down his temples—tears he would not show Loki. But he brought his right hand down, and laid his palm on Loki's chest, right where the elvish blade had pierced him. Loki moved his own hand, and gripped Thor's wrist. And neither of them said any more as they lay there, listening to the nightingale, as the elvish stars wheeled overhead.

 _To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17

STAVE SEVENTEEN

"I will not say, do not weep,

For not all tears are an evil."

-Gandalf, Return of the King

Jane opened her eyes.

Sunlight flooded the room, sparkling against the mirror in the far corner.

A quiet fluttering rattled her attention—she blinked rapidly, lifted her head…

A bird had landed on the windowsill by the foot of her bed.

A bright bird, yellow as a daffodil, with blue edges on its wing feathers. And it perched there, looking at her, tilting its little head this way and that, its black eyes watching keenly.

Jane slowly sat up, her attention fixed on the bird, pushed her covers out of the way, and moved to get off the bed—

Her legs did nothing.

Blinking, a freakishly-wrong sensation lancing through her, she stared down at her motionless limbs, fighting to make them move.

Move.

Just… _MOVE._

Nothing.

She couldn't even curl her toes.

And, of course…

Her right foot was completely gone.

Jane kept staring, her mind locked, feeling the vastness of a cold chamber rise up around her—lit only by torches—seeing a king standing upon a rise of steps, panic and horror thrilling through her blood, her hands closed to fists, a terrible scream rising in her throat: _"TELL ME…!"_

The bird chirped and flew away, out the window, and disappeared.

The vision of the chamber faded.

Her lifeless legs stretched out on the mattress.

Emptiness swallowed her.

Absently, a thought flickered through her mind that she didn't know where Thor, Sif and Loki had gone.

But she couldn't get out of bed to look for them.

She couldn't even stand.

VVVVVVV

 _Thwack!_

Thor tried to ignore the sound and motion off to his right: Sif in the archery range, firing long-shafted arrows with a sleek white bow into a standing target. But she still caught his eye—her strong, slender form easily braced, her long black hair bound half up with a flashing silver clip; her simple, form-fitting red dress rustling in the breeze, her dark eyes fixed on her target. She reached for an arrow from the quiver on her back, notched it with her graceful fingers, lifted the bow, aimed—

"Ahem."

Thor's head came around.

Loki stood in front of him, frowning.

"What?" Thor demanded.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Do we need to move to another portion of the garden?"

"Why would we need to do that?" Thor laughed—a bit too loud. Loki narrowed his eyes at him.

"I am not _blind_."

"Shut up," Thor shot back, ducking his head and ironing his face into a serious expression. "I'm here, it's past the hour we said we would start—let's begin."

They stood in the center of a large, mown lawn surrounded by oak trees. The sky shone a brilliant, clear blue, and birds twittered in the foliage all around. This lawn was usually used for games and tournaments, and beside it stood the archery range. Jane had still been resting when they left this morning, but Sif had hurried out to join them, bearing a bow that Vellanin had loaned her.

Now, Loki and Thor stood facing each other, wearing simple shirts, tunics, trousers, boots and belts—Loki's were forest green, Thor's were deep maroon—and no weapons. Loki gave him a penetrating look—one that made Thor uncomfortable. And at last, Loki lifted his chin.

"I said I would teach you if you listened to me," he said. "Back in Asgard, I have been teacher, mentor and king—and with my students I have certainly never accepted any back-talk. The instant I detect any such nonsense from you is the instant I stop. Do you understand, _Odinson?"_

Thor blinked.

"Erm…yes. Yes, of course," he tried to smile. Loki didn't.

"Very well," Loki said, and clasped his hands behind his back. He stepped toward Thor, and slowly began walking around him. "Doubtlessly you've heard of Heart Magick."

"Yes," Thor acknowledged. "It's what gives us life, and power."

"Exactly," Loki said. "It is also where we carry our most potent memories and impressions, and how we summon up our external magic. It is never depleted as long as we live, and the more deeply we invest ourselves in the study and strengthening of it, the more powerful it becomes."

Suddenly, Loki whirled around in front of Thor, planted his feet, struck his hands together—

And green lightning exploded between them, shafting down from the sky and bursting the air.

Half blinded, Thor leaped back and crashed to one knee. Wind roared around Loki, tearing through his hair and clothes as he snatched the shaft of lightning and whirled it before him, behind him, above him, like a staff. The next moment, he spun it round behind him—

And with a great crack, it disappeared. The wind fell silent. Thor stared at him.

"That's…a new trick," he managed.

"It was an illusion," Loki answered, motioning with his fingers that Thor should stand up.

"It wasn't real?" Thor cried, getting to his feet. Loki shook his head.

"But with you, it _will_ be real. So you must keep it contained—learn to control yourself, and it, or you could kill yourself and everyone around you."

"Was that the purpose of Mjollnir?" Thor asked, frowning as the pieces clicked together. "Not as a _source_ of power—but as a channel for my own?"

Loki gave him a brief smile and a wink.

"As I said," he muttered. "Smarter than you look."

Thor bit back a retort, remembering his brother's warning.

"So what do I do?" he asked instead.

Loki stepped in and pressed his hand to Thor's heart, locking gazes with him.

"Concentrate here," Loki said. "We will start small. Hold your hands out in front of you, close your eyes, and think of calling Mjollnir to you."

Thor obeyed, holding out his hands facing each other, let out a breath, and shut his eyes. He felt Loki back away.

"Just envision it coming to you," Loki instructed, his voice low and smooth. "Not doing anything yet, not—"

Power surged between Thor's hands—

BOOM!

A giant thunderclap crushed the air in front of him. No light—just a _cannonblast_ of sound—

He slammed onto his back. The noise bashed through the gardens and rocked the trees.

The birds burst out of the branches and flew away, screeching. Thor, his head spinning, the wind knocked out of him, grunted and tried to sit up.

Quickly, he looked to his right to see Sif down on one knee, her bow arm up over her head. She then lifted her face, and glared daggers at him.

Thor grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes.

Thor sat up to find Loki face-first on the ground, both hands covering his head. His brother finally brought his head up, and gave Thor an equally poisonous glare, then swiftly got up. Thor just chuckled.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Loki dusted himself off, and turned to Sif.

"Sif, my love," he called. "Please go inside or you're going to be killed. Thank you."

VVVVVVVV

Jane sighed, deep and heavy, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Two of the hanging lamps had been extinguished, but one still glowed, and moonlight from the fogged sky-window draped the whole room in silver. A low fire crackled in the fireplace. Vellanin had left to eat in the feasting hall.

Vellanin had taken care of Jane all day today. She'd bathed her, dressed her, and talked gently to her. Jane hadn't listened, but the elf's soothing tones filled the silence. Jane had turned away from the food Vellanin offered, but Vellanin didn't push it on her. She didn't answer when the elf asked her a question. She couldn't summon anything.

Finally, night had fallen. Jane lay in the half-dark, her eyes closed—but she still could not escape the listless and bewildering shadows that had swirled through her mind all day long, never leaving her alone. The black woods in Sweden, the vast winter skies there, the piercing stars…

Haunting songs resounding through a great hall lit by flaming torches, rivers thundering over mighty falls…

Lying there in the blackness, crushed beneath cement, feeling life draining out of her, her arms and legs senseless, muttering a half-forgotten lullaby…

Snow tumbling from the sky and shrouding the springtime fields. A small ship cast out upon the water, bearing the pale body of a young man…a flame set to light upon the boards, surrounding and licking his white linen clothes…

A telephone ringing in the dead of night, Erik Selvig's shaking voice at the other end…A blurry, white hospital reeking of sterilizing chemicals…

Bloody hands in a dark hallway, the rasping, desperate breaths of someone stuck through the ribs with an arrow…

Staring up into the empty New Mexico sunset where Thor had disappeared, searching through the clouds but seeing nothing but jet streams and one faint star…

A hand clasping the very end of a golden staff, icy wind blowing through her bones, stars twisting and reeling all around, a terrible pain knifing through her chest…

Falling…falling…falling…

The bedroom door opened.

She forced her eyes open, turned her head to the left…

To see Loki lean in, and meet her gaze. His forehead knotted, and he slipped through the door, shutting it behind him.

He didn't say anything.

But as he drew near, a little green light followed him. He paused at the edge of her bed, then sat down on it, facing her. The green light hovered over their heads. His emerald gaze rested upon hers, and she just gazed back at him, dark pain swirling through her chest.

Loki smiled weakly at her, something like fear in his eyes.

"Tis a terrible thing, is it not," he said softly. "To know these inner workings?" He faintly drew a circle over the center of his chest.

Jane's lips slowly parted.

"I suppose…" she breathed. "I could say the same."

Loki's smile faded away. He glanced down and swallowed, his brow furrowing again as he fiddled with the edge of the blanket.

"I think you may have…learned a great deal. Today," he said cautiously. Then looked at her.

She also swallowed, letting her eyes drift shut. Then, she lifted her left hand, and held it out to him.

He took it. Wrapped his fingers around hers and held on.

Warmth pulsed through her. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. Their hands lowered, and rested on the bedspread.

"I feel as if I've just come back from Sweden," Loki murmured. "With frost on my coat."

Jane's eyebrows drew together. He took her hand in both of his. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Loki traced the bones in her hand with his forefinger, up and down, up and down. Jane sighed, focusing on that touch, fighting to ignore the vast numbness beyond her waist…

"Does your head hurt?" Loki asked.

"No," she answered.

"Your chest? Your wrist?"

"No," Jane whispered.

"Mine either," he answered. "But…"

She opened her eyes to find him studying her hand, frowning.

"My back does."

She blinked, but didn't say anything. Loki briefly bit his lip, then glanced up at her.

"My lower back. In a very…specific place."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked.

He considered her for a moment, then shifted.

"Turn onto your right side."

She frowned back at him, but lifted up and got her arm underneath her, and turned as best she could. Loki pulled the blankets partially off her and helped move her legs so she could lie entirely on her side. He shifted again whilst she tucked her arms up against her chest.

"What are you doing?" she wondered.

"Perhaps nothing," he muttered absently. "I'm going to unfasten the back of your dress—I need to see something."

"Okay," Jane said quietly. She felt him reach up and briskly untie the back of her dress all the way down to her lower back. He then slid his soft hands in past her clothes and pressed them against her skin, his thumbs probing each one of her vertebrae. Jane shivered, but just bit her lip and held still. His left hand explored down and down—until suddenly she couldn't feel it anymore. But she sensed he still touched her, for her body moved just slightly with each pressure.

"Hm," he said quietly, going still. He snapped his fingers, and the little green light zipped over and hovered closer to him. He turned, and pressed his right hand against her upper back, and his left hand—she still couldn't sense it.

"The edge is there, isn't it?" Loki asked, poking her with his forefinger. "Right where it stops."

"Yes," she nodded.

"Mm," he answered. And he said nothing more.

His fingers maneuvered and pressed and calculated for several long moments, and Jane could feel heat sparking from his fingertips. Then—

"Ah!" he cried softly. She jumped as her own heart jolted inside her.

"What?" she gasped.

"Jane, hold still. Hold utterly still," he ordered breathlessly. "You will feel heat—possibly pain—but just hold tight to your pillow and don't move."

"All right…" she managed, fear darting through her. His hand instantly came up and gripped her upper arm.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "It won't be for long."

She just nodded, not knowing what else to say…

He let go of her, again pressing on her back…

Tremendous heat burned into her skin, scalding her and then penetrating all the way through until she felt it in her stomach. She gritted her teeth and clenched the pillow in both hands, screwing her eyes shut…

His left hand came around her bare waist and held on, while his right-hand fingers pushed _into_ her back…

A blinding flash ricocheted through her head.

Screaming pain launched up her spine, hit her skull, then blazed back down—

And flared through her legs.

Wild tingling raced through her skin, all across her thighs, her knees, her calves and her left foot.

She gasped, her eyes flying open…

The heat faded to a delicious warmth that pulsed through her whole lower body. Absently, she felt someone diddling with the back of her dress, tying it back together…

She thrashed.

Flung herself over onto her left side—

And she kicked the covers completely off.

Loki jerked his hands back, his eyes going wide…

Jane sat up.

She stared at him—then down at her legs.

She was still missing her right foot. But her legs…

She reached down and pinched them through her dress, then jerked up her skirt to examine her bare skin. With both hands, she pressed on her knees, her shins…

She felt it. She _felt it._

And then she looked at her left foot…

And wiggled her toes.

Jane let out a shriek of delighted laughter, clapping her hands over her mouth—and let tears spill down her face.

"I thought that would work," Loki declared breathlessly. "A piece of metal had been left in between the vertebrae and I—"

Jane leaped up onto her knees and flung her arms around his neck.

Shocked, he yelped and caught her. She took fistfuls of his raven hair, then, giggling tearfully—she turned her head and kissed his cheek and forehead over and over before burying her face in his neck and laughing until she sobbed.

His stunned arms slowly settled around her, and then tightened, binding her to his chest. He turned his head and leaned his face into her hair as their hearts hammered against each other, in unison.

 _To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

STAVE EIGHTEEN

"Don't leave me here alone.

Don't go where I can't follow."

\- Return of the King

 _"What_ is the matter with you?" Thor demanded as he strode out into the sun beside Loki.

"What?" Loki replied innocently, grinning and spreading out his arms to either side. "It's a beautiful morning!"

Thor glanced around them. Dew sparkled like diamonds across the emerald meadow, the towering blue sky bore not a single cloud, the early sun blazed like a crown atop the heads of the massive trees, birds trilled in the branches, and the air smelled richly of lilac and rose. Their boots soaked in dew as they swished through the young grass, and the warm breezes ruffled their comfortable clothes. Thor frowned over at Loki again.

"We cannot forget why we're here," Thor reminded him. "That Asgard is under attack, that Father is missing, that the elves will not come to our aid—"

"What on earth—have you gone mad?" Loki shot him a look, laughing. " _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be preaching temperance and morbidity, not you."

"Then why don't you do it?" Thor pressed. Loki just grinned, tilting his head back, letting the full sun cascade over his face, hair and shoulders. Healthful color glowed in his skin, and there was a vividness in his glance that Thor hadn't seen there in a long time. Thor narrowed his eyes to slits.

"You're acting peculiar," he accused.

"What, me?" Loki raised his eyebrows and put his hand to his chest.

"Yes, you," Thor shot back. "You're ridiculously cheerful."

"Oh, yes, of course," Loki rolled his eyes. "In all the centuries of my life, all you've ever said to me is 'Loki, stop scowling,' 'Loki, why don't you ever smile?' 'Loki, you're going to make it cloud up and rain.' And _now_ you're saying I'm too cheerful?"

"It makes me suspicious," Thor countered. "Especially when I don't understand the reason for it."

Suddenly, Loki gave him a sideways glance—wreathed by a smile and look of suppressed delight. And then he skipped forward one step, like a little boy, and lifted his chin, beaming out at the field before them.

"I fixed Jane's legs," he murmured.

Thor stopped dead. Loki met his eyes and stopped too, halfway turning back to him.

"You did?"

"Or—her back, rather," Loki gestured absently. "A piece of metal escaped my notice at first. An easy thing to miss, but…" Loki paused, pleasure radiating from him, and grinned again. "Last night I found it, and she can move both her legs again."

For a long moment, Thor gazed at his brother, studying his features.

"And _that's_ what's made you so happy?" he asked quietly.

Loki's expression softened, and he winked gently.

"Small victories, brother," he said. "Now come on—I've got to put you through your paces before breakfast."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Jane closed her eyes. And still, the showering light of the courtyard glowed against her eyelids.

When the glorious Vellanin had entered her room that morning and found Jane standing up on one foot, the Elvish woman had let out a joyous cry and caught Jane up in her arms, laughing. The lady had smelled of roses and cinnamon, and her strong arms had kept Jane from losing her balance—and Jane had let out a girlish giggle of her own. Vellanin had then eagerly helped Jane dress in a beautiful, flowing blue gown, and helped her out the door, down the corridors and into the courtyard, where she led her to a wicker chair, and a lavish breakfast laid out of hot tea, porridge, fruits, and sweet biscuits—and asked her questions about what had happened to her, and where she came from. Vellanin had sat beside her whilst she ate, telling her stories of her people, whilst the dozen fountains sparkled and sang all around them, and other elvish kinfolk floated in and out of the room like clouds. Jane learned that Vellanin herself was over two-thousand years old, a statement that had made Jane choke on her tea.

Then, Vellanin herself had cleared away the dishes, leaving Jane with several illustrated books which had kept her absorbed for hours.

Now, though, she sat back against the headrest, listening to the song of the waters, almost tasting the flowery scents on the air…

And even now, just as she had all through the night, she could still feel something. A twin heart, beating alongside hers. Breaths deep and heavy—echoing like in a canyon. And, though she sat in the autumn sun, her nose and mouth filled with the scent of frost…

 _BOOM!_

Jane's heart slammed into her breastbone, one thought shrieking through her head: _DUCK!_

"Where—Where is Loki?" she gasped before she had a chance to think. "Where is Loki, where is he?" She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to blink away the stars that flickered in front of her eyes.

Vellanin appeared as if out of nowhere, immediately knelt before her and grabbed her wrist.

"He is fine," Vellanin had assured her. "He is teaching Thor out on the gaming lawn. Everyone is fine."

Jane tried to calm her breathing, focus on Vellanin's flawless, pale face and brilliant blue eyes. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. "Are you…Are you sure?"

"Yes," Vellanin smiled. "My husband can see them, just there." She nodded toward a nearby corridor, then laughed lightly. "Thor has touched the root of his power: thunder. I imagine he's been surprising Loki these past two days."

"Okay," Jane said again, then furrowed her brow at Vellanin. "You…know Loki well?"

"I do," Vellanin nodded, releasing Jane's wrist and sitting gracefully back on a stool. "Ever since he was a little boy, and accidentally slipped into this realm. Gandr found him wandering around in the woods, talking to the fairies."

Unbidden, sudden flashes of memory blazed through Jane's mind: visions of a wide, green forest, of fairies like shards of starlight dancing through the air—of a _very_ tall elf wearing a wreath of violets as a crown kneeling down before her—Gandr—peering into her eyes with penetrating radiance, and speaking, with a time-faded voice:

 _"Loki of Asgard. What brings a prince of the realm to my door?"_

Jane halfway smiled, her heartbeat slowing to normal again.

"Did he…come here often?"

"Quite often, as a boy and a youth," Vellanin nodded. "We taught him our language, and the language of flowers, and some of our magic. But then the day finally came when he discovered that he was not an Aesir, but a Jotun." Her bright look faded, and her brow furrowed. "It broke his heart."

Jane swallowed hard, forcibly loosening her hands, and lowering her head.

"This is the first time he has come to visit us since then," Vellanin continued. "And we are so happy to see him!"

"Wouldn't he…I mean…" Jane said carefully. "If he was so unhappy in Asgard…Why didn't he come to live here?"

Vellanin smiled a little.

"He might have done," she said. "If he did not love Thor so very much."

Masculine shouts suddenly issued from outside. Jane sat up, looking past Vellanin.

"What's that?"

"Come," Vellanin stood up, and held out her hand. "We can go watch with Gandr."

Jane hesitated, then set the books aside and grasped the elf's hand. Vellanin easily lifted her up, and Jane looped her arm through Vellanin's, leaning on her like a crutch, and together they worked their way across the courtyard and into another passage whose left-hand wall bore large open spaces, supported by pillars, so she could see out. Gandr, clothed in flowing silver, stood with his arms folded, a small smile of amusement on his delicate lips, his flashing eyes fixed on something outside. Jane followed his attention.

Outside the window stood a low blooming hedge, and down a slight slope lay a flower garden shaded by beeches. But beyond that, tumbling waters cascaded down smooth grey stones into a sparkling pool, caught in full sunlight. And beside it, in a spread of sunlit lawn, Thor and Loki stood, hands clasped together, looks of concentration on their faces. Thor wore a loose red tunic and no shirt beneath, black trousers and boots. Loki wore a green linen shirt and tunic, and black trousers and boots also.

"Lady Jane."

Jane's head came around at the sound of Gandr's low, musical tones. His crystal eyes found hers, and he dipped his own head, offering her a smile.

"My wife told me what Loki was able to do for you," he said. "I am so happy to hear it."

"Thank you," Jane smiled irrepressibly back. "Me too."

The elf chuckled, causing his features to beam with even more beauty.

Just then, an electric crackle snapped through the air outside. Jane's head came around—

Loki had just jerked back from Thor, and was furiously slapping at his own tunic, putting out sparks. Thor burst out laughing—a thunderous, hearty laugh that shook the trees. Loki's head came up, and his eyes blazed.

"Uh-oh—" Jane started—

Loki tackled Thor.

"Oof!" Thor grunted as Loki's shoulder slammed into his middle and they both crashed to the ground. With sudden fury, the two men thrashed and rolled across the grass, howling and grunting, pulling at hair and beard, until all at once—

Thor writhed around, positioned his brother perfectly and _kicked_ him into the pond.

Loki hit the water with a spectacular splash—and Thor collapsed on his back with laughter, his clothes marred with grass stains.

Suddenly, Jane found herself holding her breath. Her eyes went wide, and she tried to draw in oxygen—

But she couldn't. Her heartbeat accelerated.

Thor weakly sat up, wiping tears from his eyes, still chuckling, then looked at the water. He stopped laughing.

"Loki?" he called, crawling onto his knees and putting his hands on the stones that surrounded the pool. "Loki, where are you?"

Thor frowned, searching the depths of the pool. Jane's heart beat even faster, and she squeezed Vellanin's arm…

"Loki?" Thor cried, leaning over even further—

 _LASH!_

Loki reappeared, sprang out of the depths like a snake, wrapped his arms around Thor's neck and hauled him into the water face-first.

Thor slammed into the water with a yelp, and they both went under.

Jane gasped in a brief breath of air before holding it again—but she suddenly couldn't stop herself from grinning.

The two men tore through the water, sending roaring waves spilling over the sides, spraying the garden flowers and trees. They leaped up and out, entangled, only to plunge straight to the bottom again. Loki's hair plastered over his eyes, Thor's tunic came off one arm.

Thor threw Loki to the other side of the pond, then tore off his own tunic and flung it onto the rocks where it splattered, revealing his powerful physique all shining with water, and the large scars upon his back.

"Stop, stop," Loki sputtered, trying to stand up, his black hair stuck like a mask to half his face. "I'm drowning—"

"Take off your heavy shirt, then!" Thor challenged.

"No—no, no!" Loki held up his hands, but Thor grinned like a lion and charged at him.

"No!" Loki screeched—and right before Thor grabbed him, he shot forward and dove through the water. Thor snatched at air, tripped and did a belly-flop into the pool. He sprang out, shaking water out of his face, and whirled around to find Loki just surfacing on the other side. Loki dragged himself up, his dripping clothes clinging to him.

"What, still hanging on to that girlish modesty?" Thor teased, winding up and splashing him.

"Don't you dare," Loki warned, holding up a finger.

"Eehehahahaha," Thor snarled, raising up bear-like arms. Loki's eyes went wide, and he tried to evade again—

Thor caught him in an iron grip, and started tugging at his tunic.

"Thor!" Loki protested, slapping at his hands—but Thor didn't let go. The next moment, Thor had whipped off Loki's tunic, then dragged him under the water by the back of his shirt.

Jane felt a dark tangle of some sort of fear twist through her chest—

And all at once, Loki leaped out of the water without his shirt, bare from the waist up. His hair flung back from his face, and gasping ripped through him. Thor, triumphantly gripping Loki's shirt in one hand, ploughed up out of the water, bearing a dripping grin, swiping water from his face with his free hand.

"Thor, you _mannhundr!"_ Loki snarled.

"What?" Thor laughed, wiping water out of his eyes again. Jane felt heat rise in her cheeks—and saw Loki's face turn red.

"You know I _never_ show my skin," Loki spat, baring his teeth at his brother.

"Why not?" Thor kept smiling. "What's the matter with it?"

Loki's eyes flashed.

"What is the _matter_ with it?" he snapped back, holding out his arms. "What do you _think_ is—"

He stopped.

Jane's heart skipped a beat.

Loki stared down at his right arm, then his left. Then, as the ripples in the pond calmed, he could see his reflection. His reflection of pale, flawless skin.

A shaft of pain shot down Jane's neck—burning, wrenching pain—as if boiling poison had just struck her there. But the next instant, that pain dissolved, soothing her whole body.

"They're…" Loki stammered, his voice shaking. "They're gone."

Thor slowly lowered his hand, letting Loki's shirt drag in the water, and watched him. Loki kept staring at his arms, then down at his reflection.

"My scars…" he whispered. "From…from the snake…" His head came up, and he looked wide-eyed at Thor. His mouth opened, but he couldn't summon anything.

Thor sloshed up to him, frowning, then grasped Loki's left wrist and turned his arm this way and that, studying it. Then, he shrugged, and smiled crookedly.

"Must be something in the water."

Loki stared back at him, stunned—

"Ha!" he choked—and tears spilled down his face.

Thor closed the distance between them and flung his arms around Loki. He took a fistful of Loki's raven hair, and squeezed him hard.

Jane felt hot tears drip down her own cheeks. She sensed Vellanin and Gandr watching with quiet smiles.

Then, Thor lifted his head.

"Are you still ticklish?" he growled, poking at Loki's back.

"No," Loki replied with a watery voice. He cleared his throat. "But _you_ are."

And suddenly, Thor let out a startled bark of a laugh and leaped backward, slapping Loki away…

Loki, grinning devilishly through a sheen of tears, came down on him like a storm, flung him straight into the water—then was caught in the trap of Thor's mighty hands again and crashed below himself.

For a good half hour, the titanic brothers thrashed and splashed in that pond, wrestling and teasing and dunking each other. Jane eventually sat down on the railing, leaning back against the pillar to watch, filled with a delighted pleasure. Vellanin and Gandr drifted off to tend to other business, but Jane felt quite contented to stay right there.

Then, Thor spun Loki around and let go of him, so when Loki stumbled to a standing position—

He lifted his head, and looked right up at Jane.

He stopped, fixing on her—and she saw him blush. Redness traveled across his chest, up his neck and over his whole face.

Heat burned in Jane's cheeks, and her heart beat faster.

Loki quickly swiped the hair out of his face and swallowed, summoning an uncertain smile for her.

She returned it, the heat in her face and neck almost unbearable, and lifted her hand to wave. He raised his own fingers—

 _Snap!_

" _Yah!"_ Loki leaped in the air and spun around—

Thor had twisted up Loki's wet tunic and snapped Loki in the rear end with it.

Jane slapped a hand over her mouth.

Loki buried Thor with a fearsome glare.

" _Ouch,_ " he stated.

Thor smiled and wrinkled his nose.

"What, am I interrupting your _flirting?"_

Jane's heart skipped a beat again—

"I _will_ kill you, _Odinson,_ " Loki threatened. Thor beckoned to him with both hands, gave him a wolfish grin—

And then Loki tackled Thor straight into the water. Finally, Jane released her giddy laughter, her head spinning, her sides aching, even as the memory of Loki's blush warmed her down to her bones.

VVVVVVVVVV

Loki jerked awake.

Cold sweat covered his body. His breathing hitched and staggered—he gripped the covers in fists. He blinked wildly, searching the dark room around him…

His room. His room on Aelfheim. Lamps like drops of starlight hanging from the ceiling. Candles burning upon the mantle. Rafters like the roots of trees intertwining across the ceiling.

Then, his gaze unfocused. His heart hammered against his breastbone.

Alone.

Just one pulse. Just one breath.

A horrid chill washed through his body, and his stomach turned over.

He flung his covers off and leaped to his feet—crashed into the nightstand before pushing off the wall. His bare feet slapped the flagstone as he rushed to the door, pulled it open, and jumped out into the hall.

Bright sapphire moonlight and starlight spilled through the many windows, and by their light he hurried down the corridor to Jane's room.

The door hung open.

In a moment, he came up and slapped his hands to her doorframe, panting, peering inside…

The covers on the bed lay open, but Jane wasn't in the room. Neither was Vellanin.

Loki spun around, pressing a hand to his mouth, panic darting through his chest—then broke into a run.

He reeled through the winding passages, sweeping up and down stairs, the cool air cutting through his sweat-soaked nightclothes.

Movement, to his left—

He caught sight of Vellanin's moon-bathed form for just an instant before he almost collided with her.

"Alskling!" she cried, catching hold of his arms. "What is it?"

"Jane," he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Where's—"

Vellanin's eyes went wide.

"It must have worked."

"What?" Loki demanded, grabbing her arms in return. "What is it? What worked?"

"Come," Vellanin urged, taking him by the hand, and drew him after her.

With swift silence, the two of them threaded through a web of back corridors, and finally emerged in a broad hallway filled with moonlight. To their left stood a wall with arched windows and no glass. Loki instantly recognized it as the healing chambers. They slowed, and Loki peered through…

To see Jane, in her nightgown, sitting on the edge of a bed, a shimmering light crowning her head, her eyes closed. Gandr stood before her, draped in white, his right hand hovering over her hair.

Loki struggled to breathe. He suddenly felt something slipping out of him—something warm and steady and living—and for some reason he couldn't articulate to himself, he fought it.

But it didn't matter. The warmth, the scent of lilac, the flickering light, faded away…

And vanished.

He let out a low, strained gasp, his gaze fixed on Jane. The light disappeared from around her head.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she gazed up at Gandr. The elf lowered his hand, and considered her.

"Can you feel him?"

A frown crossed Jane's face, and her attention distanced.

Then, she shook her head.

"No," she said quietly.

Loki's breathing trembled. Absently, he pressed his hand to his ribs.

"It's complete, then," Gandr decided. "You are each your own, again."

"Thank you," Jane said, though she sounded subdued. Their words just echoed in Loki's hearing, as in an empty room.

"You ought to try to sleep, now," Gandr said. "You may remain here, in this bed, so that the healers can tend to you."

Loki twisted away, and marched blindly back into the corridor.

"Alskling," Vellanin suddenly hurried after him, catching at his elbow. He stopped, but wouldn't look at her.

"Is it all right, alskling?" she pressed urgently, leaning close to see him. He wouldn't turn his face to her, but offered a brief smile that became more like a wince.

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?" he said. But he could feel an earnest, piercing attention burning out from her. He dared not let her look into his eyes.

"We did not think it would be so simple," Vellanin said quietly, keeping hold of his arm. "Gandr just wanted to test something. And I am certain he would have done nothing if Jane had not asked him to."

Loki propped his hands on his hips and nodded stiffly.

"Are you angry, dearest?" Vellanin murmured, reaching up to touch his neck. "Did it hurt you?"

He shrugged her off, and started up the hall again.

"No," he answered. "She cannot not hurt me."

And without looking back, he made his way all the way back to his room, and shut the door.

 _To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19

STAVE NINETEEN

" _Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars."_

 _-Tolkien_

Jane, leaning on Vellanin's steady arm, made her slow way down the corridor toward the sound of a delicately-strummed instrument. Jane wore a twilight-colored dress that whispered all around her every movement. Vellanin had done Jane's hair half up, with a silver circlet. She also wore one of Vellanin's necklaces: a spider's web of a chain, with a single teardrop pearl. However, as soon as Jane stood up from the vanity, she'd stopped feeling graceful or elegant—since she had to hop and limp alongside the tall, winsome Elvish lady, whose rivers of auburn hair tumbled down to her knees.

"Not much further," Vellanin assured her, as if reading her thoughts. Jane gritted her teeth, hoping she wouldn't trip over the hem of this long dress…

And they rounded a corner, and emerged onto a broad paved area. To either side stood large trees whose great branches overarched like a canopy, and from these boughs hung long, dripping lights that glittered as if they were alive. Encircling the pavilion stood delicate torches burning with warm golden flame. Ahead, the hill sloped down away from them, and the colorful evening sky opened up to the sunset—and straight overhead, a billion stars sparkled in the purple and pink heavens. Directly across from where Jane stood, a low dais stood, lined with waiting instruments, like a harp, flutes and several lutes.

Between Jane and Vellanin and the dais stood several elegantly-carved wooden tables lined with lovely chairs. Elves with serene, shining faces sat in many of these chairs, talking quietly to each other, all dressed in sweeping garments of pastel colors. And nearby, Jane spotted Thor and Sif at one of the smaller tables. Jane's lips parted, but all at once, she couldn't think straight.

Thor wore a sleeveless red tunic and dress armor—an ornamental light-weight breastplate and gleaming bracers. A scarlet half cape spilled over the armrest beside him, and tumbled toward the ground. Flamelight painted his bearded features with rugged beauty, catching in his sapphire eyes as he smiled and softly chuckled. He leaned his right arm on the armrest, leaning toward Lady Sif.

Lady Sif, wearing a dress of sunset embroidered with gold, her midnight hair hanging in easy waves all across her shoulders and down to her waist, adorned with a gold circlet. She wore twinkling yellow gems at her ears and her throat, and upon her wrists. She looked to Thor and spoke with him, attentive to every move on his face, her skin like the moon, her lips red as dawn.

They looked just like a king and queen from a storybook.

"Come," Vellanin cut into Jane's thoughts. "You should sit beside Lady Sif."

"Oh, I—no…" Jane tried, but Vellanin pulled her that direction—and what could Jane do?

She stumbled along, her face going hot, and Vellanin drew out a chair for Jane right beside Sif.

Thor and Sif instantly stopped talking and looked over. Both of them raised their eyebrows.

"Jane!" Thor cried, laughing in surprise. "You're standing on your feet!"

"Yes," Jane managed. "Well…one of them, anyway."

"Loki told us of his success," Sif said. "And also that you let Gandr separate your hearts."

Jane grasped the back of the chair, stopping to frown at Sif.

"I…Well, yes, Gandr wanted to try something," Jane said, glancing between Sif and Thor. "And he discovered that I'd healed completely, and it was all right to…to…" Jane gestured feebly, trying to think of the word.

"What did Loki say?" Thor asked. Jane blinked.

"I…" she started. "I didn't think of asking him. I…" She shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I didn't think he'd have any reason _not_ to want to…" she trailed off as Sif glanced down at her lap, and Thor kept frowning at her.

Feeling like something was sticking her somewhere, Jane stopped talking and sat carefully down into the chair, and managed to smile up at Vellanin, who nodded, then drifted away like a breeze.

For several moments, the three of them sat in silence as elvish conversation wafted all around them, and the evening winds toyed with the heights of the trees. Gripping her fingers together in her lap, Jane cleared her throat.

"Um…So where _is_ Loki?" Jane asked, trying to sound casual as she glanced around.

"Oh, I doubt he'll be sitting with us," Thor said as he took a sip from his wine glass. Jane shot him a look, but he didn't elaborate. And she could feel him watching her.

At last, as the servants emerged to refill the wine glasses and bring large bowls of salad to the tables, movement off in the shadows to the far right caught Jane's eye.

Loki.

He wore clothes of blended dark and light green, trimmed in warm, living gold. A golden ornament of a bird clasped half his hair to his head, on his left side. A few delicate braids had been woven into some of his raven tresses. A long emerald cape played along the floor behind him, rolling like water. His features shone, his glance caught the starlight and flamelight. But he didn't look at her.

Instead, he turned, and gave a beaming smile to someone behind him.

Jane frowned, and sat up.

The next moment, an elvish woman emerged.

She wore a gown of deep, swimming purples and blues, twinkling with a million crystals arranged like stars. She had shining golden hair that fell in glorious ringlets down to her knees. She was as tall as Loki, with violet eyes and blushing face, and a rosy, smiling mouth. She moved with the grace of a swan, and her bare feet whispered through the mist of her skirts. She lifted one elegant white arm, and held out her hand to Loki—who took it.

Something clenched around Jane's chest.

His eyes fixed on this elvish lady, and, still smiling, Loki led her to the dais, where she perched upon one of the stools, and Loki arranged the length of her skirts for her.

"Who is that?" Jane found herself whispering.

"The lady Wyndl," Sif answered. "She is Vellanin and Gandr's daughter—about my age."

"Oh," Jane managed, still staring as Loki leaned over and whispered something in Wyndl's ear—something that made her beautiful face light up—and she laughed musically. Sif chuckled in Jane's ear.

"She and Loki have been friends ever since he first visited Aelfheim," she said. "But of course—Loki has always favored women with gold hair."

Jane went cold. And she couldn't tear her eyes away from the two on the dais.

Loki, his cape running in rivers with his every movement, stepped across and picked up a golden lute from a stand, and handed it to Wyndl. She nodded graciously, and took it from him, embracing it easily, as if it were an extension of her body. Then, Loki seated himself on the edge of the dais, and rested his right shoulder against Wyndl's knee. He tilted his head back, and gazed up at her—she mirrored the tilt of his head, and they shared a long, wordless look of teasing affection before Wyndl set her fingers to the silvery strings and began to play.

A sound like sunlight shimmering across the water issued from her instrument. Loki turned more toward her, leaning the front of his shoulder against her leg, and resting his left hand on her foot.

Jane felt her face heating up until her skin hurt, but she couldn't move. She almost couldn't breathe.

Then, as one, Wyndl and Loki began to sing.

" _The leaves were long, the grass was green,_  
 _The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_  
 _And in the glade a light was seen_  
 _Of stars in shadow shimmering._  
 _Tinúviel was dancing there_  
 _To music of a pipe unseen,_  
 _And light of stars was in her hair,_  
 _And in her raiment glimmering."_

Their voices blended perfectly. Wyndl's like a lark, Loki's like…

Jane suddenly couldn't put a descriptor to it. Pure and pining, lilting like the

running of a deer, like the high winds through the mountain trees…

" _There Beren came from mountains cold,_  
 _And lost he wandered under leaves,_  
 _And where the Elven-river rolled_  
 _He walked alone and sorrowing._  
 _He peered between the hemlock-leaves_  
 _And saw in wonder flowers of gold_  
 _Upon her mantle and her sleeves,_  
 _And her hair like shadow following."_

The chill in Jane's bones gave way to a strange, thrilling warmth as the elvish

song and mingled voices washed over her. It felt different from the first time she'd heard elves singing—and yet, something unmistakably _magic_ seemed to fill the air, so she could almost smell it, taste it, sense it soaking into her skin… 

" _Enchantment healed his weary feet_  
 _That over hills were doomed to roam;_  
 _And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,_  
 _And grasped at moonbeams glistening._  
 _Through woven woods in Elvenhome_  
 _She lightly fled on dancing feet,_  
 _And left him lonely still to roam_  
 _In the silent forest listening._

 _He heard there oft the flying sound_  
 _Of feet as light as linden-leaves,_  
 _Or music welling underground,_  
 _In hidden hollows quavering._  
 _Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,_  
 _And one by one with sighing sound_  
 _Whispering fell the beechen leaves_  
 _In the wintry woodland wavering._

 _He sought her ever, wandering far_  
 _Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,_  
 _By light of moon and ray of star_  
 _In frosty heavens shivering._  
 _Her mantle glinted in the moon,_  
 _As on a hilltop high and far_  
 _She danced, and at her feet was strewn_  
 _A mist of silver quivering."_

The entire world seemed to disappear as Jane sat, breathless, listening. Pictures

rose in her mind, crystal clear, of a golden-haired elf lady dancing through the moonlit woods…

And a weary, war-scarred man who nevertheless looked a great deal like Loki,

searching, searching relentlessly after her… 

" _When winter passed, she came again,_  
 _And her song released the sudden spring,_  
 _Like rising lark, and falling rain,_  
 _And melting water bubbling._  
 _He saw the elven-flowers spring_  
 _About her feet, and healed again_  
 _He longed by her to dance and sing_  
 _Upon the grass untroubling."_

The vision in Jane's mind of the moonlit wood transformed to one of radiant

spring, and the golden-haired elf twirled amidst a meadow of daffodils, her skirts flying, her ringlets flaming. And Loki, from the shadow of the trees, suddenly came upon her, his eyes wide and his frame breathless.

Jane's heart stumbled.

 _"Again she fled, but swift he came._  
 _Tinúviel! Tinúviel!_  
 _He called her by her elvish name,_  
 _And there she halted listening._  
 _One moment stood she, and a spell_  
 _His voice laid on her: Beren came,_  
 _And doom fell on Tinúviel_  
 _That in his arms lay glistening."_

In Jane's mind, Loki shouted for the elf maiden—and before she could flee,

he'd emerged from the wood, and she was suddenly stricken by the look in his eyes. He crept toward her, and then, all at once, he took her in his arms.

 _"As Beren looked into her eyes_  
 _Within the shadows of her hair,_  
 _The trembling starlight of the skies_  
 _He saw there mirrored shimmering._  
 _Tinúviel the elven-fair,_  
 _Immortal maiden elven-wise,_  
 _About him cast her shadowy hair_  
 _And arms like silver glimmering."_

The vision didn't fade. The elf woman took Loki's head in her hands, and Loki

leaned to her, as if taking deep breaths of her perfume. Their noses touched.

Jane wrenched her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut. But the beautiful music went on. 

" _Long was the way that fate them bore,_  
 _O'er stony mountains cold and grey,_  
 _Through halls of iron and darkling door,_  
 _And woods of nightshade morrowless._  
 _The Sundering Seas between them lay,_  
 _And yet at last they met once more,_  
 _And long ago they passed away_  
 _In the forest singing sorrowless."_

In the back of her attention, Jane heard everyone around her begin to clap. She forced her eyes open, her heartbeat erratic and painful, and looked up to see Loki rise to his feet, take Wyndl's hand in his, and together they inclined their heads.

And then Loki bent, and kissed Wyndl's shining cheek.

Jane stared, a strange panic beating around in her chest. She gripped the armrests of her chair, completely forgetting Sif and Thor.

And then Loki looked at her.

Unbidden, and without reason. Looked directly across the pavilion and into her eyes. He didn't smile.

And then he looked away.

Jane's eyesight blinked in and out.

"Jane, are you well?" Sif took hold of her arm. "You've gone white!"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, holding up a hand—

 _"Caw, caw!"_

Her eyes flew open, and everyone on the pavilion fell silent and turned—

To see two huge black ravens descend from the clouds like reapers, spread their great wings, and swoop down over the company.

Thor leaped to his feet, eyes flashing—

The birds landed on the back of an empty chair near the dais. Thor rounded the table and charged up next to his brother.

"Huginn and Muninn," Loki realized, exchanging a look with Thor.

"Why have you come?" Thor demanded of the birds.

Both birds let out a series of cackling cries, fluffing their wings. The brothers listened intently. Then, when the birds fell silent, the men turned to each other.

"We must go now," Thor growled.

"Yes," Loki murmured. "But allow me one errand, first."

"What?" Thor demanded, leaning toward him. Loki put out a hand and touched Thor's wrist.

"Trust me," he said. "I'll not be long."

Thor studied him a moment, then nodded.

"I will wait for you."

Loki nodded in return, then hopped off the dais, wove through the tables, and departed, without a second look.

 _To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20

STAVE TWENTY

"May it be a light for you in dark places

When all other lights go out."

-The Fellowship of the Ring

Dr. Stephen Strange stopped.

His red cloak whispered to motionlessness all around him, and he went still in the fractured light of the huge window in the upper level of the New York sanctum.

The back of his neck tingled, and he flexed his fingers. They trembled slightly.

Slowly, he turned his head, and glanced to his right.

Someone stood within the shadows of the corner, hidden from the reach of the sunlight coming in through the glass. The air all around this figure hummed with magic—but it flowed in elegant, liquid lines all around him.

Stephen lifted an eyebrow, minutely, and tipped his head just an inch.

"Can I help you?"

The stranger remained where he was for just a moment…

Then glided out into the light, and halted.

He was tall—taller than Stephen. He wore sophisticated, antiquarian clothes the color of evergreen and springtime, and a thick, shimmering emerald cape that trailed on the floor behind him. He had skin like ivory; long, slightly-wild black hair ornamented with a gold clip and thin braids that evoked a Viking era—yet his face was angular and clean-shaven. He had serious, cultured features, dark eyebrows and piercing green eyes. Eyes that captured Stephen's, and didn't stir.

For several minutes, neither of them moved, or hardly breathed. Then, Stephen lifted his chin.

"You're Loki."

"I am," the stranger replied, his voice cool and even. "And you are Stephen Strange."

"Mm," Stephen murmured, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing in New York? Deciding whether or not to smash a few things up again?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across Loki's careful mouth, and he glanced down briefly.

"Not today," he said. The mirth disappeared, and he met Stephen's eyes again. "I've come to make a trade."

"Oh, indeed," Stephen slowly folded his arms over his chest.

Loki lifted his hands. Stephen didn't move—but he braced himself.

 _Clap!_

Loki slapped his palms together, a green light _flashed_ between his palms—

And a small box with intricate, heavy handles appeared in his grasp. The box itself writhed and glowed with an icy, dangerous blue light.

"What is that?" Stephen demanded, lowering his arms in readiness.

"It is a Jotun ice-casket," Loki explained. "Crafted on Jotunheim more than a thousand years ago. It can open up gates between the realms, and freeze entire armies in blankets of ice."

"And…what are you planning to do with it?" Stephen eyed it.

Loki raised his eyebrows, and held it up.

"I'm giving it to you," he said. "In exchange for anything you have in this sanctum that might help my brother and I defeat Hela _Nuuruhuine._ "

 _"_ _Nuuruhuine?"_ Stephen repeated.

"It is an Elvish word," Loki explained. "It means Death-Shadow."

Stephen watched him for a long moment—but Loki simply gazed back at him.

"Who is Hela Death-Shadow?" Stephen asked, his voice low.

"Odin's elder sister," Loki said. "When she ascended the throne, she went mad, and began warring with all the other realms, causing the powers of Asgard to capture her and lock her away."

"Sounds familiar," Stephen said coldly. "Must run in the family."

Something crossed Loki's face just then—a shadow, tinged with something like…

Sorrow.

Stephen's brow furrowed.

"She has broken free," Loki said quietly. "She's come back to Asgard to rule it by force. And from there, she will surely try again to conquer all the other realms."

Stephen said nothing for a long time. Finally, he took a step toward Loki, but glanced casually out the window.

"Your brother came here earlier. Looking for your father." Then, he eyed Loki. "I didn't say so, but I assumed _you_ had killed him—which is why I couldn't find him."

Loki shook his head.

"I didn't kill him."

"Where is he, then?" Stephen countered.

"Hidden," Loki replied.

"Hidden where?"

"Where no onecan find him," Loki said. "No one but me."

Stephen snorted. Loki turned, and fluidly set the ice casket down on an empty pedestal, then lifted his eyes to Stephen. He took a step of his own toward him. Then another.

"I am quite certain you are well-versed in magic, Stephen Strange—for a Midgardian who just began learning the trade these past few years," he said slowly. "But there are so many secrets you cannot fathom, and powers in this universe you cannot imagine." He stopped, penetrating Stephen with his gaze. "Odin is _hidden_ …Until his time comes."

"His time," Stephen said flatly.

There it was again—a shadow across Loki's face.

"Yes," Loki whispered, and his attention distanced. "Ragnarok."

Stephen said nothing. But a coldness settled down through him.

"You think that time is now?" he asked at last. "The destruction of your entire realm?"

Loki blinked, coming back to himself…

And didn't speak. But the vivid emerald in his eyes faded to grey.

At last, Stephen closed the cautious distance between them, and stood an arm's length away. Loki's eyebrows drew together, that shadow remaining in his features now.

"If you believe your entire realm is inevitably going to be destroyed," Stephen said carefully. "Then why are you here, trying to fight it?"

Loki suddenly smirked.

"I seem to remember hearing a tale," he said. "Of a young sorcerer, armed with nothing but a spell he learned by accident, facing down someone named…Dormammu?"

Stephen almost smiled.

"Don't believe in prophecies, huh?"

"Oh, I do," Loki answered, his smirk fading. "Which is exactly why I've come to you."

Stephen frowned hard.

"You've _seen_ something, then?"

Loki's gaze flickered.

"I have," he whispered. "But I fear…" Suddenly, Loki's gaze darted all across Stephen's face, his eyebrows knitting further. "I cannot tell you."

"Does it affect earth?" Stephen demanded, his heartbeat accelerating.

Sorrow etched itself into Loki's face, now.

"I'm afraid it affects everything."

"Then you have to tell me," Stephen ordered. Loki simply raised his eyebrows, and shook his head.

"I cannot," he said. "Not if any of us have any hope of seeing the sun shine through in the end."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Stephen pressed. Loki rolled his

eyes.

"Come, now. If I were lying, I would give you an absurd amount of detail."

"That's probably true," Stephen muttered. Loki's expression settled into a weary smile—and at the sight of it, Stephen felt his shoulders finally relax.

"I think…" Stephen said slowly. "I may have something that could do the trick."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Your weapons vault?" Loki surmised, following Stephen down the darkened stairs toward the basement of the sanctum.

"More like 'place of dust and boxes,'" Stephen corrected, flipping on a light switch. "But…A while ago, I came across something down here that I found extremely interesting."

For a moment, the two of them cast their gazes through the large underground room—its brick walls, cement floor, and the piles of crates, trunks, books and glass cases standing in disarray, with foot paths weaving between the stacks. Stephen led the way between the dusty piles to a tall wooden case with a glass panel, which stood in the back corner. Light from a high basement window leaked in, glimmering against the glass. He stopped in front of the case, and Loki drew near, peering through to the contents.

Upon a black, velvet-covered headless mannequin, hung a large necklace, and in its upturned hand lay a ring.

The necklace, a chain of gold, bore flashing white opals in each link, and from the chain hung an iron-wrought symbol of the Three-In-One knot—and in the center of the symbol burned a radiant fire opal, looking like the universe itself caught within a gem. The ring looked entirely different. Thickly silver-wrought and hammered, it had a distinctly ancient-Norse look: simple, bearing a stamped rune.

"I know they don't look like it," Stephen said. "But these are part of a set."

"What are they?" Loki whispered, absently holding up a hand—as if feeling invisible cobwebs wafting against his fingertips. "It seems as if…they could come out and kill us just for standing here."

"The necklace is called Guðherklæði," Stephen said. "From what I've read…it's armor." Stephen waited for Loki's doubtful glance, but Loki didn't turn from his study of the jewels. Stephen took a breath.

"The ring is called Trúskjǫldr."

 _Now_ Loki's head came up, and he looked at Stephen.

"Trúskjǫldr," he repeated, stunned. "The shield Beowulf used to fight the great dragon—that protected Wiglaf from the flames."

"You've heard of it?" Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"Where is the sword?" Loki searched the case. "Is there another piece?"

"Yes," Stephen nodded gravely. "In Asgard."

Loki stared at him—searched his face.

"And…without it…will the armor or the sword come to me?" he asked.

Stephen considered him darkly.

"What do you think?"

Loki took a painful breath, gazing at the necklace of armor.

"Where…" he tried. "Where is it in Asgard?"

"I don't know," Stephen confessed. "All I know is that the sword has not been on earth for at least a thousand years."

Loki frowned earnestly at him.

"It's name is Næġling," Stephen finished. "And it was broken."

"What?" Loki breathed, his eyes flashing.

"Yes. It was broken in the fight with the dragon," Stephen said. "And never re-forged."

"A broken sword…" Loki said, as if something were stabbing him inside his chest.

"You know where it is?" Stephen pressed.

Loki gave him a shattered look.

"Yes. I always have," he said. "But…we'd all forgotten its name."

For a long time, Stephen studied the Asgardian, even as Loki turned back to stare into the heart of the fire opal.

"You actually _do_ want to do this, don't you?" he said carefully.

"I will do what I must," Loki said faintly.

Several seconds passed. Stephen let the weight of everything he knew, and everything he sensed, settle down through him. Then, he drew in another breath.

"Well, then," he said, turning to open the case. "Since you can't do any damage with these until you're back on Asgard, I see no reason to keep them down here collecting dust."

He reached in, carefully picked up the necklace, drew it out and held it up to Loki.

Loki's breathing stilled to nothing…

And he gave a pale, stricken look to Stephen, as if Stephen had just offered to drive a nail through his hand.

"Are you certain?" Loki asked.

"Yes," Stephen nodded.

Loki blinked rapidly, his mouth tightening…

Then, instead of reaching for it, he bowed his head, closed his eyes, and leaned forward.

Stephen paused…

Then stepped up and put the necklace over Loki's head, and settled it around his shoulders. He let go.

The opal blazed like dragonfire against Loki's chest. Loki did not reach up to touch it, but glanced down at it with a darkened brow—as if a terrible weight now burdened his shoulders. He said nothing.

Increasingly fascinated—and troubled in his depths—Stephen reached in and picked up the ring. He had to be careful, since his fingers shook, and held the ring out to Loki.

Loki took a deep, tight breath, and held out his right hand, palm up. Stephen set the ring in his hand—

Loki's left hand came over, and settled on top of Stephen's.

Stephen's head jerked up. But he suddenly couldn't pull his hand away.

Loki's frown changed. He tilted his head, his gaze roving over Stephen's fingers, even as his fingertips explored Stephen's scars. Startled—but mesmerized—Stephen allowed himself to be examined—only belatedly realizing why it felt in no way intrusive: Loki's touch and manner were just like a doctor.

"This was terrible," Loki said quietly, setting his fingertips against Stephen's knuckles.

Stephen swallowed hard, phantom pain darting through the backs of his hands.

"Yes, it was," he said—and his voice didn't come out as steadily as he would have liked.

"I can repair it for you," Loki said.

The world stopped turning.

Stephen stared at him—and Loki looked back at him, clasping Stephen's hand in both of his.

"What?" Stephen tried.

"I can repair it," Loki repeated. "Both hands." He dipped his head, earnestly peering at Stephen. "Do you believe me?"

A terrifying thrill raced through Stephen's chest for just an instant…

Then, he closed his trembling fingers around Loki's, and actually gave him a smile.

"Yes, I do." He took a difficult breath, and lifted his head. "But some scars are worth keeping. They…remind us who we are."

Loki studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I understand." And he released Stephen's hand, keeping hold of the ring. Gingerly, he slid it onto the ring finger of his left hand. Stephen drew himself up, trying to dash away the remnants of that thrilling hope that had just touched him.

"So…" he said. "I have to admit, you don't _seem_ like the kind of guy to go completely crazy and try to take over the world."

Loki chuckled.

"Seriously," Strange insisted. "What was going on, there?"

"Mm. Infinity stone," Loki said, tapping his temple. Stephen raised his eyebrows.

"Really."

The smile faded from Loki's face again, and he gazed openly at Stephen.

"As I said, Stephen Strange," he murmured. "You have no idea."

Another unearthly chill shot down Stephen's spine. Loki suddenly turned away.

"I must go," he said. "Day is failing." He started toward the stairs—

Then abruptly stopped.

Stephen frowned.

Loki seemed to brace himself, then turned swiftly to face him again. His eyes burned, and his face had gone pale as death. He advanced on Stephen, caught up his hand again in both of his, and gripped it.

"For the love of the Everlasting," Loki hissed, leaning close to Stephen's face. "Do _not_ use this stone." He pressed his right hand over the Time Stone medallion, pushing it against Stephen's heart. Stephen could only stare mutely back at him. Loki's brow knotted.

"And when at last you sit down to seek an answer," Loki rasped. "Search for Tony Stark."

Confusion battered through Stephen's head, but words fled him. The next moment, Loki released him, retreated five steps, and pressed his fist to his own chest.

"Farewell, Doctor Strange," he said. "Until Valhalla."

And, in the twinkling of an eye, he was gone.

 _To be continued…_


	21. Chapter 21

STAVE TWENTY-ONE

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!  
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,  
We must away, ere break of day  
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,  
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,  
Until at last our toil be passed,  
Our journey done, our errand sped.

-The Hobbit

Jane sat astride a white horse in the light of a grey dawn, before the gate of Aelfheim. The air felt chilly and smelled of frost. Thor had helped her climb up into the saddle—and now he stood beside the horse, along with Sif and Loki. Earlier, Loki had pulled four woolen, fur-lined cloaks out of his infinity bag and passed them out. Sif wore a purple one, Thor a maroon one, Loki a green one, and Jane a white one. Both Thor and Sif wore swords that the elves had given them, and everyone wore tall boots and warm clothes. No one spoke much—and Jane had seen Loki and Thor exchange a few dark glances that made her go cold. Not even the birds seemed to want to wake the sun.

The wind in the woods had gone still, and the canopy of golden leaves above them hung motionless and silent. The bridle on the horse jingled each time the animal turned its head, glancing around him with dark, intelligent eyes. Huginn sat on Thor's shoulder, whilst Muninn rested on Loki's. The birds hunched, eyeing everything around them with quick, suspicious glances.

Then, Gandr, Vellanin and Wyndl emerged from up the path, each wrapped in flowing mantles. They immediately moved to Loki, and both Vellanin and Wyndl grasped his hands. The three elves searched Loki's face with grave concern—but they didn't speak.

"You know your way from here, Seldo?" Gandr finally asked. "It has been many a year since you traveled thence—and never during such dark and tangled times."

"I have traveled more tangled roads since last I came to you," Loki answered, summoning a smile. "And I will always know my way home."

The shining Wyndl then embraced Loki, and he hugged her back, and kissed her cheek again. Jane took a shaking breath, gripping the reins tighter. Vellanin held him then, and then even Gandr took Loki in his arms.

At last, the beautiful, sad elves stood back, and met Jane, Thor, Sif and Loki's eyes in turn. Gandr, his hair catching the bit of light that filtered through the wood, and turning it to a halo upon his crown, raised a strong, graceful hand.

" _Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts!_  
 _Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men_  
 _and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"_

Loki lifted his hand in reply.

" _Namárie, mellyn,_ " he called quietly.

" _Namárie,_ " they replied—Wyndl a little tearfully. Loki blew them a kiss, then,

with one last look at them, turned and strode toward the gate. Thor grasped the bridle of Jane's horse and fell into stride beside Loki, and Sif came up on Loki's other side. The gate swung silently open.

"Are you certain you can handle something as big as a horse?" Thor muttered to him.

"I can handle anything," Loki muttered back.

Jane now gripped the horn of the saddle and the reins so tight her knuckles turned white. They passed through the gate, then turned and paused…

To see the gates glide closed—

And the elves vanished.

Jane's eyes went wide…

But instead of surprise, a heavy sadness settled over the others.

"Come," Loki murmured. "Let's go."

He reached down and took Sif's hand, then grasped Thor's. Thor adjusted his hold on Jane's horse's bridle, and glanced up at her—

And then, a vivid _flash_ consumed Jane's entire vision.

VVVVVVVVV

Ripping, tearing, whirling wind swooped all around her, grabbing at her hair and clothes. She could see nothing but spinning light and dark. Her heart raced, her stomach turned over—

And all of a sudden, it all stopped.

An icy gust of wind sliced through her clothes. With a gasp, she opened her eyes…

And found herself sitting astride a horse again, on a rocky, snow-covered ledge on the side of a mountain.

Before her stretched a vast valley filled with black pines, all coated with snow. Jagged, silent, stoic mountains surrounded this valley. And all around their little group of travelers, those black pines towered like giant, silent sentries. The grey sky beyond the trees hung low with frosty clouds. Jane's startled breath made a vapor all around her head.

Snow crunched beneath boots. Her head came around to see Loki, Thor and Sif shifting and looking around, adjusting their cloaks. The ravens on the shoulders of the men shook themselves, and fluffed out their feathers.

"Where are we?" Jane gasped. "Is this Norway?"

"No," Sif replied, gravely gazing out over the forbidding-looking valley, resting her left hand on her sword. "This is Asgard."

"This is the Ironwood," Thor said, and even his quiet tones sounded too loud in this icy silence. "The home of giants, trolls, wolves, witches and dwarves." He adjusted his bracers, then motioned with his head. "We must tread carefully."

"This is a new philosophy," Sif teased him. Thor smirked.

"Simply because we do not have Hogun, Volstaag and Fandral here to protect us," Thor added.

Sif laughed, and together, the two of them started for a gap between the pines. Jane hesitated, picking up her reins…

And then, without a word, Loki came up beside the horse, and looked up at her.

He said nothing. But his eyebrows drew together. His green eyes seemed to have lost some of their color, instead taking on the cold, snowy light all around them.

Jane's lips parted, but she couldn't speak. Loki glanced down, then took the horse by the reins near the bridle, and led him forward.

Together, the five of them treaded through the snow and into a narrow pass between the black, looming trees. Their booted feet, and the horse's hooves, swished through the drifts. Jane tilted her head back, gazing up through the snow-draped pine branches, even as the shadow of the wood descended on them.

"How old are these trees?" she wondered quietly.

Huginn muttered something, adjusting the way he stood on Thor's shoulder.

"Most are older than I am," Thor answered. Jane dropped her gaze, and frowned uncertainly at Thor's back.

"And…" she asked. "How old is that?"

Sif chuckled. Thor glanced back at her, frowning sincerely.

"I just had my one thousandth fifty-third birthday, Jane—don't you remember? You made me that large pastry covered in frosting."

"I…remember you had a _birthday…_ " Jane managed, feeling a little faint.

"Sif is ten years younger than I am," Thor went on, gesturing to her. "But Loki, as closely as we can reckon, is almost exactly my age. He may even be older."

Muninn, on Loki's shoulder, squawked.

"Older than you?" Loki spoke up. "Where did you hear that?"

Thor shrugged.

"I asked Mother about it once, when you were missing," he said. "She said that you had been born prematurely and you were sickly, for a Frost Giant, and yet you were the same size as I was, _and_ further along. You could see better, hold your head up a bit, use your fingers more."

Jane glanced down at Loki—who was staring in disconcertion at Thor.

"I might be _older_ than you?" he said, as if the whole world had tilted sideways.

Thor laughed, then glanced back at him.

"I don't mind, if you don't."

"Oh, no—don't worry about it," Loki retorted. "Meanwhile, I'll just readjust my entire life's paradigm."

Thor laughed again—and some of the tension eased from Loki's brow.

For a long time, they traveled the mountain track in silence, boots crunching through ice or striding through snowdrifts. Sometimes, snow trickled down from the overhead branches. Jane let go of the reins, sat back and put her hood up, and wrapped her cloak tight around herself, fighting off the chill.

At last, the path opened up to another clearing, through which they could see the valley once more. They stopped, and assessed it.

"Well, what do you think?" Thor asked Sif. She let out a foggy breath, glancing around.

"It is as good a place as any," she decided.

"For what?" Jane asked.

"Kulning," Thor replied.

"The…The way you call the cows home?" Jane frowned.

Sif snorted.

"Cows?" Thor smiled. "Ha. Don't let them hear you say that."

Confused, Jane said nothing more. Sif gazed out into the distance, then slowly drew in a deep breath.

Then, she let out a high, long, piercing cry—one that sounded like _"Oooh-eeee-naaaah-ooh!"_ in a long, trailing, descending call. Its haunting, melancholy, melodic sound echoed through the wood, cutting through the silence, resounding into the valley. It sounded medieval—unmistakably Norse—in its cold beauty, its simplicity, its boldness and sadness. Again and again, Sif drew in deep breaths, and let varying calls loose into the frigid air, until the entire forest rang with them. The echoes came back to her against the faces of the faraway mountains—as if she were singing into the sanctuary of the most immense cathedral in the universe.

 _WHOOSH!_

Jane twitched, and snatched at the mane of the horse.

Loki's hand instantly came up and gripped Jane's forearm.

Huginn and Muninn ducked low.

The next second, a massive shadow covered them—

And a figure struck the ground in front of them, and stretched up to its full height.

A giant.

A giant _woman_.

She stood at least fifteen feet tall, all clad in leather and drapes of fur, and dark blue wool. The buckles on her belt and the metal fastenings on her breastplate, boots and bracers gleamed and flashed silver. She had wild, mane-like blonde hair, half bound in intricate braids and Nordic ornaments. She had painted black kohl around her piercing grey eyes. She had a fierce, frowning, beautiful face and a hard mouth.

And from her back swooped two _huge_ black wings.

Wings that overshadowed her, whose feathery lengths, when half-folded, stretched down to touch the snow.

She haughtily lifted her chin, and rested her hand casually on the butt of a giant sword that hung from her left hip.

"Sif Valkyrie-frændi," the giant woman stated, in a rough, cutting tone. "Why do you call me?"

"Valkyrie Geirdriful," Sif stepped forward and thumped her fist against her own breastplate. "May the wind ever lift your wings. I have come on behalf of the kingdom of Asgard. These with me are Thor and Loki, sons of Odin."

The Valkyrie's terrible gaze fell upon the two men. Loki's hand tightened on Jane's arm. And then, the Valkyrie narrowed her eyes at Jane.

Jane's blood ran cold.

"Who is the _barn?"_ the Valkyrie demanded.

"Her name is Jane of Midgard," Sif explained. "She is under our charge."

The Valkyrie said nothing for a long moment, studying each one of them in turn. Finally, she spoke again—slowly.

"We have heard that Hæl Death-Shadow has come to Asgard—and that she slew the two princes Odinson."

"We escaped to Aelfheim," Loki spoke up. "And now we've come to speak to your people, and all the folk of the mountain."

"You seek a war council," Valkyrie Geirdriful realized. "To overthrow her."

"Do you not desire it?" Thor asked, watching her.

Geirdriful's expression turned deadly.

"Hæl caused the death of many of my people with her wars upon other realms," Geirdriful growled. "The greatest and bravest of us fell to Jotun pike-arrows, or to dragonfire, in useless and foolish attempts to take desolate wastelands and hills without forests." She took a step toward them. Jane felt the earth tremble. Geirdriful shook her head once. "I would slay her myself, if given place to do it."

"If you would, then, _Gildrvindr_ ," Sif said. "Send out the call to everyone to meet us at the hall of Breidablik tonight, at sunset."

"You truly are in earnest," Geirdriful noted, smirking. "It gladdens my heart." Then, she set her piercing glance to the ravens. "Huginn and Muninn—come with me and aid in my task."

Both ravens cackled in answer, and flexed their wings.

"The trees will guard your path down to Breidablik from here," Geirdriful said, spreading her own wings like a terrible thundercloud. "Brynhildr will be waiting for you."

"Thank you," Sif answered, and Thor and Sif put their fists to their chests.

The Valkyrie bent her knees, stretched out her wings—

And with a _flap_ like a hurricane, whose wind blasted through their hair and clothes, the Valkyrie shot into the sky. Instantly, the two ravens launched themselves from Thor and Loki's shoulders and took off after her, soaring up into the clouds, following the mighty beat of her wings.

It was only after she had vanished that Loki released Jane's arm.

VVVVVVVVVV

They traveled another two hours or so, gradually heading downhill, in silence. Jane could sense the others listening, and she began to do the same—wondering what the Valkyrie had meant when she'd said "the trees will guard your path..."

Finally, an opening appeared in the trees before them, and they passed beneath a twisted archway of branches and out into a snow-draped glen.

And there, to their left, towered the house of a giant.

It had to be twenty stories high, with a castle-sized door, and vast windows. Tangled carven knots, crawling figures and peering faces wound across the weathered wood of the walls, posts, pillars and window frames. The many levels of roof stood pointed and sharp, with figures like Viking ships adorning the peaks. Smoke curled from the several chimneys, and the scent of burning pine rolled from the hall. Lamps burned in the windows through the slits in the shutters. Snow covered the roof three feet deep, in perfect, cake-like layers. Icicles long as swords hung down from the corners.

Beside this gigantic house stood a stable, just as huge, with a similar roof, smaller windows, and a maw of a door. And out from it strode another woman, the same height as Geirdriful, her black wings tucked against her back, and entire bale of hay under an arm. She had blazing red hair, and wore leather and wool just like the other Valkyrie. When Jane's group was still afar off, this Valkyrie stopped, and saw them.

Thor and Sif halted. Loki drew Jane's horse to a standstill right behind them.

The Valkyrie put the hay bale down. Then, in just a few swift strides, she had crossed the open space between them, her hair wandering like fire around her shoulders. She stopped, assessing all of them with a familiar, terrible attention. Jane tried not to cower away from her incredible height. The Valkyrie's green gaze cut down through them.

"You are the princes of Asgard, come with Sif Valkyrie-frændi?" she demanded without preamble.

"I am Thor, and this is Loki, sons of Odin," Thor said, putting his hand to his heart. The Valkyrie nodded.

"I am Brynhildr," she said. "Geirdriful sent word that you would be coming." She waved to them, fluttering her wings. "Follow me. Come into the house."

She turned, and strode away from them. Sif and Thor hurried after, and Loki had to urge Jane's horse into a momentary trot in order to keep up.

The shadow of the massive house fell across them, and the roof seemed to scrape the clouds. Brynhildr shoved on the mighty door and pushed it aside. Heat and the scent of fire rolled out toward them.

"What about the horse?" Loki asked, pausing on the threshold.

Brynhildr stopped, and lifted one eyebrow as she glanced down at the animal.

"Bring him inside," she said. "If you put him in the stable, our horses are likely to eat him."

Jane's eyes went wide.

Loki said nothing more, just tugged on the reins, and they entered the vast, mighty chamber of Breidablik Hall.

 _To be continued…_


	22. Chapter 22

STAVE TWENTY-TWO

O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!  
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!  
The king of friend and kin has need.

-The Hobbit

Jane sat on a bench at a table on a dais, wearing a soft woolen dress and a cape of fur, feeling as if she'd wandered into a legend.

The giant mead-hall, its wooden pillars and lintels adorned with holly and pine wreathes and garlands, smelled of roasting game, pine, and fire. A line of square-shaped pits in the center of the long stone floor burned with avid flames that flooded the room with warmth and light. Blazing lamps hung by chains from the high rafters. Long feasting tables stood along the perimeter of the gigantic room—some tall and sturdy, others low and stout.

But these ancient-Nordic surroundings took second place in Jane's awe compared to the _people_.

Twenty Valkyrie, all clad in armor, chain mail and leather; their hair ornamented in braids and flying loose, their wings arching over their shoulders, strode back and forth like living storms, their voices like the roar of the sea, their gazes like lightning. They all had hair like wild wheat or burning sunset, and muscular, powerful bodies. If they sat, they chose large tables, twice as wide as king-sized beds, and four times as long. They drank from huge goblets, and carved whole cooked goats on each plate.

And yet, they were not the tallest in the room.

Eight giants—great, hulking men, whose heads nearly touched the ceiling—sat in the far corner at their own table. They wore heavy furs, and carried clubs made of entire tree trunks, each beautifully carved with symbols, knots and faces. The men had long, dark beards laced with silver, like frothing ocean foam, and they had entered wearing hammered helmets adorned with wings, which now sat beside the clubs. Their feast of venison, wine and bread could have fed an army for a week. Their voices boomed like thunder, their laughter shook the foundations of the house.

Then, beside the table of giants, at a very long table, sat an entire clan of dwarves. The tallest stood perhaps as tall as Jane. All wore weather-worn clothes like the others—leather, chain mail, wool—with distinctly-different designs set upon their armor and weapons. They all had dark hair and chest-length beards, and keen eyes that caught every detail. They openly admired the craftsmanship of the carvings in the hall, and upon the clubs of the giants. They were just as noisy as the giants, though with smaller voices, and energetically ate and drank, as if they were holding contests. Together, the raucous sound of feasting Valkyrie, giant and dwarf soared through the hall in an unearthly, terrible, wonderous chorus.

"You haven't eaten much."

Jane stirred, sensing movement to her left. She turned to look…

Loki, garbed in the dress clothes she had seen him in on Aelfheim, complete with the cape, slipped into the space beside her, and glanced at her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jane gave a faint smile, looking out over the hall.

"Small," she murmured. She heard Loki chuckle.

"Yes—I think it's good for Thor to come here once in a while. But _without_ Volstaag." He lifted a finger. "It quickly becomes dangerous with Volstaag."

Jane turned to him. He met her eyes, and the smile faded from his face. He swallowed and glanced down at the plate in front of him.

She felt her brow furrow, and something in her heart stuttered.

"Did you…" she started.

His head came up, and he instantly looked at her, brow knotted. She stopped, and also swallowed. She smiled weakly, and gave a half gesture.

"Thor said…Well, Thor _asked_ me whether or not I'd talked to you before I had Gandr…"

Loki's gaze intensified. He said nothing. The back of Jane's throat started to hurt.

"I…Well, it seemed like Thor was trying to say that you wouldn't…" Jane tried. "That you _didn't_ want Gandr to separate us if he could."

Loki still said nothing. He cast his gaze down at the table once more, his lips parting, and frowned. Then, as his frown deepened, he reached up to where Jane's left hand lay beside her plate. With a feathery touch, he laid his fingertips on the back of her hand, near her forefinger.

Chills shot up Jane's arm and into her chest, then all down through the rest of her body. Somehow knowing what he wanted, she turned her hand, and slowly opened her fingers.

He slid his hand into hers, and purposefully, gently, interlaced their fingers, and closed his hand around hers. Jane did the same, returning the same pressure.

Watching the movement, Loki ran his thumb back and forth, back and forth across the side of her forefinger. And for a long time, he didn't speak—and Jane sat there, her heart pounding, gazing into his fire-lit face. Then, at last, he took a low breath.

"I thought you had died," he whispered—and looked into her eyes.

Some sort of delicious pain shafted straight through Jane's heart.

Inexplicably, she broke into a sudden smile, and laughed—though it hurt her. And she reached over with her other hand, and quickly enfolded his.

He blinked, his breathing unsteady. She tightened her hold.

"I couldn't have died," she chided him. "You took too good of care of me for that to happen."

Reflexively, Loki's other hand came up also, found hers. As if out of pure instinct, Jane searched for his pulse-point—and Loki did the exact same thing to her. And then, they held tight. Instantly, the sensation of both their pulses filled Jane's mind.

"It's true," Jane insisted, squeezing Loki's fingers. "You did—you saved my life. Every second I'm alive now, it's all because of you. So when I say I feel small…It isn't a bad thing."

Loki looked at her again, his emerald eyes searching her face. She smiled at him again.

"It's good," she murmured. "To remember how fragile life is. And how precious. And…not to waste it."

Loki stared at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. His hands went still in hers. His gaze flickered…

And wandered down to her mouth.

And for just a split second—

Jane thought he was about to lean in and kiss her.

Her heart bashed against her chest—

"Mm," Loki cleared his throat, letting go of her hands. "I must go find Thor."

And suddenly, he let go of her, got up and left the table, without looking back—leaving Jane's cheeks and lips burning, and her hands cold.

VVVVVVVVV

Deep into the night, the folk of Breidablik Hall feasted. The rafters resounded with laughter and the clanging of pewter. As Jane sat watching, the fearsome Valkyrie Geirdriful climbed up on the table, and whilst pacing back and forth, her hair a windswept mane around her face, she recounted violent deeds of battle long ago. With shaking fists and savage cheers, the others in the hall punctuated each high point of the tale, until the rage and roar of battle seemed to clamor in Jane's ears. Geirdriful would flare her wings and raise her fist—she'd act out the death blows with invisible swords and spears.

"I have recounted many fell deeds of my fellows, and those of my brothers, the giants and the dwarves," Geirdriful gestured toward them all. "But still great amongst all of us is Thor _þrymja-hamar_ and Loka _Himinn-Troða,_ the sons of Odin!"

And she swung around, and swept her arm toward the head of the table, where Thor and Loki sat side by side.

As if they had received a cue, the brothers stood up as one, and climbed onto the table. Thor wore a long red cape and travel clothes, his muscular arms bare—and the fabric of his cape mingled with Loki's as they stepped slowly down the table.

"I am Thor, son of Odin—the Thunder-Hammer!" Thor shouted like a bear, raising his left arm and closing his hands to fists. "And this is my brother, Loki Sky-Walker, the most masterful sorcerer in the Nine Realms!"

A ravenous roar rattled the boards. The brothers glanced at each other.

"We are here to tell you the tale of the slaying of Thrym," Loki's voice cut like a knife through the din. "The savage giant king of the North!"

More ferocious cheering burst from the group. Chills washed down Jane's spine.

"Behold!" Loki said—whirled, clapped his hands—

And the torches and fires extinguished. The hall plunged into darkness.

And mountains leaped to life upon the walls, like crystal clear projections. Waterfalls spilled down their faces, snow gleamed upon their heights.

Everyone in the hall gasped.

"The land of Glæsisvellir!" Thor declared. "Home of the wicked giant king Thrym, and his four monstrous sons."

"Of a fine spring day, Odin All-Father went hunting with his royal entourage," Loki said, flicked his fingers—

And a magnificent, bearded, one-eyed old man in golden armor materialized through the front door of the hall, large as life, astride a large white horse. He carried a long golden staff, with a blazing stone in the head. He charged up the center of the mead hall, surrounded by a cadre of riding knights, their armor flashing in sunlight. Everyone murmured in wonder as they sped past, until the riders blended into the green foothills upon the head wall.

Loki waved his hand through the air, gazing keenly at something near the door…

Watching him, eyes narrowed, everyone finally turned to follow his gaze…

From out of the shadow of the woods loomed four giant men.

They had dark red skin, black beards and violet eyes—and when they bared their teeth, they had fangs. Jane covered her mouth with her hands.

They wore fur that barely covered them, and carried great bows and long black arrows. The foremost giant, his eyes burning, laced an arrow to his string, raised his bow and fired.

The arrow—as long as a sapling—screamed past the spectators' faces—many yelped and ducked. And then, they saw the arrow punch straight through three of Odin's men as if they were meat on skewers.

The soldiers tumbled from their horses. The horses screamed. Odin whirled around, brandishing his staff—

But the second giant had already readied another arrow, and fired it—

Shooting Odin's beautiful horse out from beneath him. The horse fell, and pinned the king to the ground. His staff went flying.

The giants were suddenly upon the other soldiers. They battered the smaller men with empty-handed strikes, they shattered their armor with clubs. And all at once, the first giant bent and snatched up Odin's staff, which to him was no longer than a dagger.

And as the terrible giant raised his prize in the air and let out a jagged laugh…

He and his fellows, and the soldiers and the mountains, faded into black.

"In the darkness of the second watch of the night," Thor said gravely into the silence. "One remaining guard stumbled through the gates of Asgard."

Flamelight came to life once more…

But all around them, instead of the mead hall, stretched the mighty walls of a receiving hall of the palace of Asgard—golden pillars, alabaster floor, the fluttering of white curtains in the evening wind. And through the front door now materialized a battered and bloody soldier, without his helmet, staggered forward, his eyes wide with panic.

Thor and Loki hopped effortlessly off the table and landed together near a vacant fire pit.

"'Whence come you?' I asked," Thor continued, fixing on the illusion. "'And where is my father, whom you swore to guard with your life?'"

"'He has fallen,'" Loki said—and the guard's mouth moved in time with the words, just like a puppet. "'To the sons of the giant Thrym.'"

"'What?' I cried," Thor put a hand to his heart. "'My father is dead?'"

"'No,'" Loki made the soldier say—even as Loki himself took hold of Thor's arm. "'But he is captured, and being held in Thrym's fortress, along with the mighty staff, Gungnir.'"

"My fury was aroused," Thor declared to the people in the hall, turning about to look at them all. "And the wrath of my brother could not be quenched. We would kill this giant who so threatened the house of Odin, and take back Gungnir!"

The listeners roared again, slamming their utensils against their metal plates.

The hall of Asgard melted, as did the bloody soldier—and then grass rippled out from beneath Thor and Loki's feet. A moonlit summer night in a meadow bloomed all around them, surrounded by serrated mountains.

"We knew it would be foolish to fly into open war with Thrym," Loki growled, even as he and Thor strode forward across the new grass, their capes rolling behind them. "And so we devised a most cunning plot to steal into the castle unbeknownst to the giants."

And in stride, Loki turned and laid his hand across Thor's eyes.

Thor's mighty form melted into the weird, twisted image of a one-eyed, toothless witch, with a long, hooked nose, and wearing tatters and rags, and carrying a battered cane.

Jane gasped.

The next second, Loki whirled like a storm of ink—

And disappeared.

"Ah!" everyone yelped.

"We advanced upon the house of Thrym…" seethed Loki's disembodied voice out of everywhere at once—and Jane found herself shivering with giddiness.

"…My brother an old witch, myself unseen," Loki purred.

Thor changed direction, and limped toward the head wall of the hall…

And out of a pillar of shadow, the _huge_ door of a castle solidified. Skulls on pikes decorated the lower ramparts, and torches of blue flame guarded the iron-barred door.

"'Who goes there?'" Loki shouted—it _had_ to be Loki, but his voice boomed with a savage, unfamiliar roar. And from one of the ramparts leaned the terrible head of a red-faced giant, his tangled beard dangling over the wall, his eyes blazing against the starlight.

"I am Vǫlur," Thor called back—in an excellently-cracked, high-pitched voice. "Come to read the fortunes of the king and his sons, so that all may go well with them in years to come."

"The red giants being halfwits," Loki interjected into space, using his own voice. "Asked no questions—in fact, they seemed to look forward to the sport."

"Or they were deciding whether or not to eat me," Thor added as an aside—in a hilarious old-woman voice that made everyone in the hall laugh.

The giant withdrew, and the drawbridge lowered. Thor hobbled forward, through the door…

And the mead hall transformed again, to the giant, dark, dank stone entry hall of Thrym the Giant.

Iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dripping with tallow candles. Hundreds of rough-hewn furs scattered over the floor, littered with dry bones.

And out of the ether loomed the figures of five red giants, right in the center of the mead hall.

Jane jerked back, trying not to dive under the table, her heart staggering inside her as the thirty-foot, horrifying monsters soared up to the rafters. And one, whose beard had gone white, sat upon a mountainous throne, right between the other four.

"Who comes bearing a wand into the halls of the mighty Thrym?" the center giant bellowed—again, in Loki's voice, but vast and inhuman.

"What, your guard didn't give you my name?" Thor retorted, in his creaky voice. "Is he deaf?"

Everyone in the feasting hall roared with laughter. Thor allowed a smirk to cross his witchy lips.

"I should crush you for impudence," Thrym rumbled.

"Ah, _that_ would be a grave mistake," Thor held up a crooked finger. "For I am a powerful witch, and would turn you and your sons to cinders!"

The red giants all gasped dramatically, and the observers snickered.

"Why have you come?" Thrym demanded, leaning forward in his throne, his claws scratching the armrests.

"Did he forget to tell you that, too?" Thor creaked. "What are your sentries for, anyhow?"

The folk in the hall chuckled, and the floorboards vibrated.

"She says she had come to tell our fortunes," one of the younger red giants muttered to Thrym, eyeing Thor sideways. "So that all may go well with us."

"Ahh," rumbled Thrym, sitting back and raising his eyebrows. "And what would you have in return?"

Thor shrugged his weedy shoulders.

"A good meal and a bed for the night would suffice," he answered. "I've had a long, weary walk tonight, and the air is bitter."

Thrym pursed his lips, and tapped his horrid claws against the armrests. Jane sensed the audience glancing at each other.

"Very well," Thrym decided. "Begin with my youngest son, then."

"I shall," Thor said, shifting and tapping his cane. He cleared his throat, and, swaying back and forth, spoke in sing-song verse.

 _"Thy first shall snap his toes ybounden,_

 _And brake his face askew_

 _Thy second shall shaft him through the heart_

 _And blood be spilt anew_

 _Thy third shall reap what he hath sown_

 _And crush his spirit sore_

 _Thy fourth shall live to take the throne_

 _For Thrym shall rule no more._ "

Everyone in the hall gasped. Thrym's face turned even darker scarlet, his eyes blazing like lightning.

"How _dare you_ —" he thundered, his voice shivering the rafters—

But the brothers didn't give him time to answer.

In a storm of writhing magic, Thor's disguise dissolved—and he suddenly stood, tall and strong and fierce, with Mjollnir in his hand.

"Odinson!" Thrym cried, leaping to his feet—

"Yaaaaah!" one of the other giants keened in shock, just as a black, snake-like, thorny cable shot out of nowhere, wrapped around his foot and sank in like teeth. The giant jerked his foot up, hopping recklessly, tripped, and struck his face against the wall. Like a felled tree, he careened, unconscious, and crashed to the ground—and disappeared.

The other sons grabbed for their clubs and knives. Thor leaped into the air, propelled by the illusion of Mjollnir. He darted up in front of one of the giants—

And another, in a blind fury, stabbed at Thor.

The giant missed.

Thor plummeted to the ground.

The giant stabbed his own brother in the chest.

That giant recoiled in horror. The wounded one stared at his brother, then toppled to the floor. He vanished, too.

The one who had stabbed his brother let out a shrieking, unhinged howl, tore at his hair, turned and ran from the hall. The last brother leaped backward, throwing himself behind a pillar—

Just as Thrym himself stretched to his full height, and swung his club straight down at Thor.

It was going to smash him.

But at the last instant—

Loki appeared, streaking through the air like a raven, and kicked Thrym's club aside. The club pulverized the flagstones next to Thor. Thrym lost his balance, leaning too far forward—

Thor stepped in, bared his teeth and struck the giant beneath the jaw.

The giant's head flew backward.

Blinding lightning shattered through his skull and pelted the walls.

Thor and Loki leaped out of the way—

The hulking giant collapsed, dead, at their feet.

Silence fell in the hall.

Then—

The blue giants in the corner roared. The Valkyrie howled and applauded. The dwarves bashed their steins on the tabletop. Jane clapped with all her might.

The illusions vanished. The mead hall regained its warm, earthy light.

Thor and Loki stood side by side near one of the fire pits, smiling. Thor lifted the illusion of Mjollnir…

And watched it dissolve in a shower of golden sparkles. As if oblivious to the raucous noise all around, he glanced at Loki, and his smile turned sad. Loki gave him a regretful, understanding look…

And Thor reached down with his now-empty hand, grasped Loki's wrist, and hiked it into the air.

The audience roared. The brothers grinned.

Thor let go of Loki, turned and slapped his chest with his fist.

"For Asgard!" he thundered.

Loki put his hand to his heart, turned the opposite direction, and bowed low, even as the dwarves issued appreciative whistles. Then, Loki straightened up…

He looked right at Jane. He smiled. And, as if there was no one else in the room, he put his fingertips to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

 _To be continued…_


	23. Chapter 23

STAVE TWENTY-THREE

"The world is indeed full of peril

and in it there are many dark places.

But still there is much that is fair.

And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief,

still it grows, perhaps, the greater."

-The Lord of the Rings

The sun shone bright and clear overhead, turning the snow all around to hills of sparkling sugar. The sky beyond the mountains lifted high and blue and cold as ice. It reminded Jane of the winter days around Christmastime she used to spend with her dad in Norway and Sweden, skiing and sledding.

But she didn't feel any of that refreshing excitement she remembered from those times. Now, something heavy and dark had settled inside her, in spite of the sunshine. And as she waited astride her horse, her jaw tightened, and her fingers closed hard around the edge of the saddle.

At the break of dawn this morning, Sif had come to Jane's room to wake her, and helped her dress. Sif had also brought a cold breakfast of meat, cheeses and milk, which they ate quickly together. After that, whilst the rest of the household still slept, Sif and Jane met Thor and Loki in the yard, with the saddled horse. No sooner had Jane mounted than Loki had grasped hands with the others, and Thor had grabbed the reins—and Loki vanished all of them.

Now, they stood upon a gentle slope, in a clearing open to the sunshine. In front of them, a great grey rock protruded from the snow, crowned with gnarled pines. The small company stood silent, staring at the cold face of the rock.

"He's here?" Thor asked—and his voice shook, his breath a vapor around his face.

"He is," Loki answered, staring just as fixedly at the rock. Thor shifted painfully, and swallowed.

"And…" he ventured. "What if he's asleep?"

Loki glanced over at him.

"If he is asleep, then we return to the hall and wait."

"But what if he is awake?" Sif murmured.

No one said anything. They just looked at each other.

Jane shivered.

Loki looked up at her. Then, he turned back to the stone.

"Well, there's nothing for it, then," he muttered, starting forward.

Thor held back, the skin around his eyes tightening, a flash of fear crossing his face. Loki left deep prints in the snow, his cape rolling along behind him. When he drew up before the tall, granite face, he let out a long breath, tilted his head back, and looked all across it. Then, he pulled off his left-hand glove, pressed his bare hand to the frosty rock, bowed his head, and whispered to it.

Sif moved. Slowly, she followed in Loki's footsteps, watching carefully. She stopped beside him, listening.

A horizontal crack appeared in the stone just above Loki's head. White light spilled through the hairline gap, and spread to the right and left. Soon, both sides of the crack curved downward, and began working their way to the ground.

The knuckles on Thor's fist that held the reins turned white. The horse snorted, and took a step back.

The air shimmered. A deep, inaudible hum traveled through the depths of the earth.

A door appeared. A stone door, with runic markings all over its face. Loki moved his hand…

And pushed with his fingertips.

Easily, as if it were an ordinary door made of wood, it swung open.

Thor let go of the reins and strode forward, his breathing unsteady. Unsure, the horse pricked his ears forward and followed, nickering worriedly. Jane held on, feeling her eyebrows draw together.

Loki stared in through the doorway. Sif pressed up next to his shoulder, and Thor drew up right behind them both, completely obscuring whatever was inside. All Jane could see was a dull light within. She bit her lip, and held her breath.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then…

A voice.

Low, quiet, masculine, and gentle. From inside the cave.

"Hello, my sons."

And suddenly…

Thor wrenched away, turning around, screwing his eyes shut, baring his teeth…

He stopped.

And tears tumbled down his cheeks.

VVVVVVVVV

Jane sat on a low stool inside the small, warm cave, a fur draped over her legs. Sif sat beside her on another stool, Thor in a large wooden armchair, his fingers over his mouth as he stared into the fire in the hearth. Loki stood in the shadows of a corner, his arms crossed, his head bowed.

An old man sat on the simple bed that stood against the wall by the fireplace. He wore browns and creams, with a cloak lined in fur. His long white hair had been adorned with braids and charms, and his long beard hung upon his chest. He wore a leather eye patch over his right eye. He rested his hands upon his knees. Hands that were covered in old scars. He wore a gold wedding ring on his left hand.

"Would any of you like something warm to drink?" the old man asked quietly, offering a small smile.

Neither Thor nor Loki spoke—but Thor's shining eyes flicked to his father's for just an instant.

"No, thank you, Allfather," Sif spoke into the silence, uneasily glancing at Loki and Thor before rubbing her hands on her thighs. "Are you…are you well?"

"Quite well," Odin replied, nodding once. "How are each of you?" He turned his head, and looked at Loki. "It seems, from your faces, that you have come through a great many terrible trials since I last saw you."

"Hela has come back," Thor muttered, his voice rough. "She has conquered Asgard, broken Mjollnir, and chased us into exile. Besides this, she nearly killed Jane."

"Ah," Odin turned to her. "The little goat." And he winked at her. Jane almost smiled, squeezing her fingers together in her lap.

"And now, you are awake," Thor went on, in a more severe tone, turning a direct gaze upon his father. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Odin said slowly. "That Ragnarok has come. That I must join you, and any forces you have managed to gather, and make war on Hela's Asgard. And…" he took a slow breath. "That this, at long last, shall be my final battle."

Thor screwed his eyes shut again and shook his head.

"No, no, that cannot be," he insisted. He opened his eyes, and leaned toward Odin. "I refuse to accept that."

"It is the truth, my son. Loki knows this," Odin said frankly, gesturing to the silent one in the corner. "He has known it all along, which is why he hid me here, protecting me from all manner of dark forces, until this very moment. Nothing can stop the tides of time. This has been foretold since the dawn of the age."

"No," Thor said again—came off the chair and knelt in front of Odin, grasping his hand in both of his. His brow twisted. "No. I cannot…I cannot lose both Mother and you."

"Oh, my son," Odin smiled gently, reaching up to rest his left hand on Thor's head. Thor fell forward, pressing the bridge of his nose to Odin's hand.

"My son, my son," Odin murmured. "I have lived nearly half the life-age of the realms. And I have been blessed by two honorable sons who have kept my life both full and extremely interesting all this long millennia." His smile broadened, and he stroked Thor's short hair. "My years have been full and long, dear child. I will not regret dying in battle to help you save your birthright. In fact, I shall feel it to be an immeasurable honor."

Thor sniffed loudly, his shoulders shaking. Stricken, Jane looked up to see Loki standing in the shadow, barely lit by the flames, his brow drawn and his eyes bright with tears.

"Is there truly no other way?" Sif pressed.

"None," Odin stated. "We only have two choices: run from our fate, or ride out to meet it. But if we flee, all the realms will fall to darkness. While, if we dare to fight, and even meet death on the battlefield, we may yet keep that terrible destiny at bay."

"What must we do?" Loki asked, from out of the darkness. Odin lifted his face to him.

"We will sail with the Valkyrie and our other allies, down the River Iving, which never freezes, to the lake Amsvartnir which lies to the east of Asgard," Odin said. "Loki, you will mask our way with fog and silence. It will take us a full day's travel to reach the lake, and it will take all night to cross that lake. We will attack Asgard at dawn, when Hela's power is still weakest."

"But how can we defeat her?" Thor demanded, lifting his head, the tracks of his tears shining in the firelight. "If she sees us, she can strike us dead!"

"Not whilst I am there, my son," Odin smiled patting his cheek. "This is why I must come with you. And why you must regain the broken sword from Asgard's vault's."

"Broken sword?" Thor repeated, frowning. "What broken sword?"

Odin chuckled.

"Your brother will tell you that tale on the journey," Odin replied. "We will have time enough aboard the ships. But now…" he pushed forward, and rose to his feet. Thor backed up, and also stood, questioning.

"We must go," Odin decided. "Daylight is burning, and soon, we will be out of time."

"Father—" Thor tried again. Odin held up his hand.

"I am king," he said. "And I sail to the aid of my kingdom. Are you coming with me?"

Thor let out a shuddering breath, his brow twisted.

"Of course, Father."

"Good," Odin nodded. "Then let's be off." And the king stepped between Thor and Loki, heading for the door. As he did, he patted a companionable hand down on Loki's shoulder, then pushed the door open, and stepped out into the bright snow. Sif, hesitating a moment, finally got up and followed him. Thor, his attention nowhere but on his father, came immediately after.

Jane reached up and grasped the mantlestone, and pulled herself up to a standing position. Gritting her teeth in concentration, she hopped forward, toward the door—

"Jane—"

Loki intercepted her. She stopped, slapping her hand down on the footboard, her head jerking up.

"What?"

He lifted a hand, palm up, watching her carefully.

"I think," he said quietly. "I think you'd better stay behind." His eyes captured hers—gravely serious.

"What, why?" Jane demanded. "I want to come!"

Loki lifted his eyebrows.

"Oh? And what would you do?" Loki wondered.

"I don't know, _something!"_ she fired back. "Shoot a bow and arrow, throw rocks, whatever needs to be done! I'm not just going to sit someplace while all of you go out and risk your lives."

Loki snorted, and gave her a gentle, knowing smile

"You're far too brave for your own good." He reached up, and barely touched his fingers to her chin. His smile faded, replaced by a look that was grey and bleak. "But you would be killed. Within the first few minutes." He rested his hand on her shoulder, near the base of her neck, and shook his head once. "I cannot allow that."

"I don't care," Jane lifted her chin—fighting back the tremor that passed through her. "I'm not letting you go without me."

The edge of his mouth twitched up, and he shook his head again. An unearthly light entered his gaze, and it pierced straight through her.

"I _can't_ go without you," he murmured simply. "Every time I draw a breath, every time I close my eyes and listen to my heart…I feel you. Right beside this rib." He lifted his left hand, and pressed his fingers to his chest near his breastbone. "Do you know what I mean?"

Jane pulled in a trembling breath, her pulse accelerating—and even as she gazed back into his eyes, she could feel a strange echo within the beat of her heart.

"Yes. What…" she tried. "What does that mean?"

"It means you _are_ going to battle with me, Jane Foster," he answered firmly. "And that my heart is twice as strong."

She said nothing. She couldn't. Loki's gaze softened. And filled with regret. He lifted his hand just a little, and stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.

"I am sorry you were pulled into all this," he murmured, his gaze drifting over her features. "You deserved a life filled with sun and light and open air, and the laughter of your children."

Jane gulped, terrible pain suddenly working through her chest. She forced a smile and a laugh.

"Well, there's still time for all that."

His eyes met hers. He didn't smile.

And Jane's lip trembled.

"You _are_ going without me, then?" she murmured, her brow twisting—and her voice shook more than she wanted.

"Stay here," Loki asked. "Stay here and live. Please?"

Jane brought her free hand up, and gripped Loki's wrist. She nodded.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay, I will."

He nodded, and pulled back from her.

"Wait!" she gasped. His eyes flashed.

"What?"

"I…I have to give you something. For luck," she said, scrambling for the right words.

"You have a talisman you want me to carry?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, her heartbeat thundering. "I want to give you a kiss."

His eyebrows went up. His lips parted, and his eyelashes flickered.

"A kiss?"

"Yes," she nodded, her hands shaking. "Yes, I…Kneel down, so I can reach you."

Loki stared at her for a long moment. Jane gripped the footboard.

Then, slowly, Loki sank down on one knee, his face lifted toward her. For a moment, Jane gazed down at him, his features softened by the firelight, his eyes vivid and green. Then, she hopped forward once, and laid her left hand on his shoulder.

Loki drew in a breath, his brow creasing, his eyes never leaving hers. Bracing her weight against the footboard, Jane leaned down close to him. Hearing her own pulse beat in a rapid race—the exact same pulse pounding in its echo.

She neared him. She could feel his warmth.

His eyes fell closed. His lips parted.

She met them with hers.

She shut her eyes, and kissed him.

They both held their breath. Time stopped.

His mouth felt so different. Soft and careful, but warm and yielding to her. She could feel their joined heartbeats in their lips, heat mingling upon their skin.

She held him there, without moving, until she drew in a deep breath of him, and smelled the frost of the mountains. He did the same.

Jane unlocked their mouths, and lifted her face from his.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she at him.

Then, he carefully stood to his feet. Her hand stayed on his shoulder, and he rested his hand on top of hers.

"Thank you," he said—his voice quiet and unsteady.

"You're welcome," Jane said, an unexpected tear tumbling down her cheek. "Be careful?"

He didn't say anything. Just held her hand there, moving it so it rested against his heart. Then, he stepped back, keeping hold of her fingers, until their arms stretched out between them. Feeling a spasm of pain, Jane squeezed him.

"Goodbye," Loki murmured—and let go.

Jane gasped.

Loki turned toward the door.

"Wait," Jane called.

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. She hesitated, still halfway reaching toward him.

"How do I get out?" she asked. "How do I make it open, if I have to?"

He smiled crookedly.

"Say my name."

And with that, he pushed through the door to the brilliant day, passed through it, and shut it behind him.

 _To be continued…_


	24. Chapter 24

_STAVE TWENTY-FOUR_

 _The Lord of Silver Fountains,_

 _the King of Carven Stone,_

 _the King Beneath the Mountain,_

 _shall come into his own._

 _And the bells shall ring in gladness,_

 _at the Mountain King's return,_

 _But all shall fail in sadness,_

 _and the Lake will shine and burn._

 _-The Hobbit, Desolation of Smaug_

Stars sparkled upon the black surface of the water as the two-hundred ships coasted silently across the face of Lake Amsvartnir. The dragon prows of the ships arched like the necks of beasts, the sails tied tight to the masts. Aboard the ship where Loki, Thor, Odin and Sif stood, eighty dwarves sat on benches, forty on either side, rhythmically dragging long oars through the water, with motions as silent as the grave. All around them, the crews of the other ships did the same.

Thor stood beside Loki, their shoulders touching, as they stared out over the water to the blackness beyond. Odin sat behind them on a chair near the aft, and Sif attended him. The slight breeze of their passage ruffled the edges of Loki and Thor's capes.

"What did Father mean?" Thor murmured, gazing at the dark horizon. "When he spoke of a broken sword?"

"When we were on Aelfheim," Loki answered. "Just before we left, I visited your friend, Stephen Strange."

Thor glanced at him, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"To ask him for his help," Loki answered. "And, once I explained things, he was willing to oblige me."

Thor's attention sharpened.

"What did he do?"

"He gave me armor and a shield," Loki replied. "Here." And he lifted his left hand and pulled off a dark silver ring. He held it out to Thor.

"What is this?"

"This is the shield," Loki said, pushing it toward him. "You wear it."

"Very well," Thor took it from him, and put it on the ring finger of his right hand. "What does this have to do with the broken sword?"

"The armor, the shield and the sword form a union," Loki replied, scanning the unseen edges of the lake. "The armor is called Guðherklæði, the shield is Trúskjǫldr, and the sword is Næġling."

"Wait," Thor faced his brother. "These are Beowulf's weapons?"

Loki turned toward him, nodding.

"Yes, and we've had his sword in our vault all this time," he said, heaving a sigh. "The easiest place in the world for us to get our hands on it—until now."

Thor rolled his eyes, turning back toward the bow.

"Of course," he muttered. "Just our luck."

The edge of Loki's mouth curved up.

"Perhaps our luck will change."

Thor looked at him sideways, and narrowed his eyes.

"I saw that, you know."

"Saw what?" Loki asked distractedly, frowning into the distance.

"I saw Jane kiss you."

Loki's head came around. Something in his gaze flickered.

"Now, wait," Loki said, as if he wanted to take a step back. "She asked to kiss me. As a matter of courtesy, I couldn't deny a lady who—"

"A lady you love?" Thor cut him off.

Loki stopped, staring at him. He swallowed.

"I don't love her," he muttered.

"Certainly," Thor scoffed. "Just like I don't love Sif."

Loki's eyebrows shot up. Thor gave him a rueful smile.

"Come, brother," he murmured. "Shall we not, even at this hour, be honest with each other?"

Loki turned away, clearing his throat, and glanced down.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "She's Midgardian, I am Jotun. And by midday tomorrow, we'll all be dead, anyhow."

"Oh, that's a cheerful attitude," Thor scoffed.

"It's a realistic attitude," Loki jabbed.

"It is not," Thor insisted. "Weren't you just telling me about a weapon that could defeat Hela?"

"I have no idea," Loki snapped, openly exasperated. "Seeing as the blasted sword is _broken_."

"Boys, you must be quiet now," came Odin's whisper over the deck. "We are very near, and your voices will carry across the water."

Loki glared at Thor. But Thor only grinned back, and pointed at him. Loki rolled his eyes.

The rest of the journey, no one spoke. The water began to ripple uneasily, sending them a signal that the shore was nearby. Loki lifted his hands and breathed into them…

And out from his fingers billowed a thick fog that poured out over the deck and clouded across the water, swallowing the fleet in mist and silence. Steadily, the dwarves rowed, pushing the ship even further toward the coast.

Thor closed the distance, and again set his shoulder to the side of Loki's.

"You truly believe that this plan of ours has a chance of succeeding?" he asked quietly.

Loki did not stir.

"Do you trust me, Brother?"

"Yes," Thor said.

Loki lifted his chin.

"Then trust me."

They said no more.

At long last, dark rocks loomed directly before them. The dwarves shifted and rowed backward, slowing the ship's pace. Loki stepped to the prow and leaped off onto one of the stones, and Thor threw him the mooring line. Loki secured it with magic, then stood by as the dwarves disembarked with their weapons, shields and helmets. Sif and Thor helped Odin, who had abandoned his fur cloak on deck. As Odin steadied himself on the rock, he tapped his chest…

And armor bloomed across his shoulders, sweeping across his form, towering over his head in a kingly golden helm. And the staff Gungnir sprang into his weathered hand. At the same time, Loki dusted off his arms, and his own armor, like black snake scales, spilled over his frame, cascaded behind him in a deep blue cloak, and arched over his brow in a wicked, horned helmet. Thor merely stood, watching them, drinking in the sight of it—wishing he could summon his own familiar armor. Armor that Hela had destroyed. Instead, he wore a mixture of elvish and dwarvish armor—a combination he was sure would make both races ill, if they knew of it.

"Shall we go?" Loki asked. Odin nodded. Loki turned around, and made for a cliffside pass—one that appeared to be invisible to all who didn't know exactly where it was. Single file, Loki leading, the entire company climbed the steep stone steps that clung to the side of the cliff, and ascended toward the top.

Above them, as Thor climbed, he could see the sky gaining a grey tinge. Lightening ever so slowly—though he knew it would never gain the full brilliance of the true dawn. Not while Hela sat on the throne of Asgard.

At last, Loki reached the top, and vanished over the edge. Thor followed swiftly, his hand on his new elvish sword. He stopped beside Loki, both of them peering ahead at the spreading, rolling meadow covered in whispering grasses. Far, far in the distance, Thor glimpsed eerie green lights dotting what looked to be a mountain.

The palace of Asgard.

Thor turned to see the company of dwarves, and Odin and Sif, achieve the rise, and fall in beside them. Sif met his eyes, and he tried to smile at her. She stepped behind Odin, and came up behind Thor, just at his flank. And, for just an instant, she reached out, and touched his fingers. He caught hers in his, and briefly squeezed—then let go.

"Come," Odin said, and started forward. Thor, Loki and Sif followed, the dwarves carefully trailing behind. The grass rustled around their knees, the cool night wind disturbing their hair and capes. Thor walked in stride with Loki, right behind their father.

Movement.

Odin held up a hand.

They all stopped.

Thor jerked his sword from its scabbard. It came free with deadly silence, and gleamed in the dim light.

A single figure hurried forward through the grass. Thor could hear his panicked breathing, and saw instantly that he limped heavily. Thor stepped up next to his father, leveling the point of his sword at the stranger. Loki's fingers flicked nervously.

And the next second—

"My king!"

"Heimdall?" Thor cried.

The dark-skinned warrior, half-clad in armor, his hair hanging free in braids, staggered toward them, and grabbed Odin by the shoulders.

"My king, you must turn back!" Heimdall cried, his golden eyes wild. "Turn back—it is a trap!"

Thor's mouth opened—

But before he could utter a word, a comet of fire struck the meadow before them.

The grass burst into a line of flame, the darkness lit with hellish brilliance. And beyond that rank of flame stood the unending lines of Hela's army, their bones glowing with the radiance of the heart-magick they had devoured, their spears and swords rattling, their crooked jaws gaping. And in their midst, upon a muscular black stallion that sweated shining silver, sat Hela herself, wearing a helm of towering thorns, an obsidian blade grasped elegantly in her right hand.

"The ever-faithful Heimdall," Hela purred as the flames crackled around the feet of her men. "With the sight to see across the universe—and so he saw the Allfather coming to me, and yet could do nothing to spare him."

Odin stepped past Thor, settling Gungnir in his hand, lifting his head.

"I am not afraid of you, _systir_ ," Odin said calmly. "My only regret is that I did not have the heart to kill you when I had the opportunity."

Hela laughed. Her army giddily rattled their teeth and shook their weapons, creating a horrifying symphony. Odin simply stood there.

"And have you come seeking another opportunity?" Hela chuckled. "Along with your sons and…What are these?" She leaned forward and scanned the lines of dwarves who stood at the ready. "Little trolls from the hill country? Or…" her voice hardened with mockery. "Children from Midgard?"

The dwarvish lines seethed and clapped their swords against their shields. Hela smirked.

"Tis a pity you involved your own sons in this feud, Odin," Hela said. "If you hadn't, you would not have lived to see them die before your eyes."

And she lifted a hand, and snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

Her eyes flashed. Her smile fell away.

She sheathed her sword in one swift movement, then clapped her hands.

Power slapped out from her—

But still, nothing happened.

Thor glanced at Odin.

And his father allowed himself one small smile.

Hela pulled back on her reins. The horse jerked back several steps, and whinnied. Hela's wide eyes blazed.

"What is this witchcraft?"

"How do you imagine I bound you in the first place, all those long ages ago?" Odin asked. "And I shall surely bind you again."

"You are _nothing_ , little brother," Hela snarled. "And you are deeply mistaken." She drew her sword again, and lifted it high in the air. And, in a terrible, mountain-splitting voice, she shouted: "SURTUR!"

The earth quaked. The meadow rumbled. And behind the ranks of Hela's army…

The ground split open. Lava boiled out, catching the grass on fire. Smoke plumed from the opening…

And a mighty form erupted from the wound in the earth.

A monster the size of a dragon, with skin of living coal and flame, his face like a skull with bared fangs, and the curved horns of a bull. In his hand, he raised a burning sword that crackled and spat like a thousand snakes. His mighty shoulders lit the night, his eyes bright as the sun, his dripping mouth like the maw of hell.

"Well…" Loki muttered. "That's it, then."

And he struck his hands together, and flung a vivid green light straight at the sky.

It rocketed upward, leaving a howling trail, and exploded at its height like a firework.

The next second—

A fiendish howl rang out over the waters of the lake—and ascended like the scream of banshees.

With the gust of a hurricane, the army of Valkyries swooped up the cliffside and soared into the air, as high as Loki's flare, over the heads of Thor and his family. Their great wings pounded Hela's fire with blasts of wind, sending the flames into the knees of their makers. Swords sprang into the Valkyries' hands—they screeched and bared their white teeth, their eyes aflame with chaotic ferocity, their hair swirling around their heads. And right after them, the giants clambered over the ledge, roaring at the top of their voices. They towered almost as high as Surtur, slapping their great clubs into their massive palms.

Thor felt Odin's hand land on his forearm.

"Go, my sons!" Odin hissed.

"Father—" Thor gasped.

Hela let out a screaming curse, and flung her sword toward Asgard's ranks. Her army lunged forward. The Valkyrie, as one, swooped down on them.

"Let's go!" Loki snapped, grabbing Thor's hand—

A white light flashed in front of Thor's face, and the two of them disappeared.

 _To be continued…_


	25. Chapter 25

STAVE TWENTY-FIVE

"I'm glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee,

here at the end of all things."

-Frodo, Return of the King

 _FLASH!_

Thor blinked his eyes open.

Darkness.

The next second, the ground rumbled beneath his feet—and an unsettling _crack_ traveled through rock far overhead.

A hand snapped its fingers right next to his face. A little green light blazed to life, momentarily blinding him. Then, the light darted up and away, illuminating Loki standing beside him.

"Where are we?" Thor asked, turning to look around—but he could see nothing.

"Just outside the great hall," Loki panted, tilting his head back to look up. "Right where you and I stood before your failed coronation."

"Really," Thor frowned, turning and putting out a hand—

And finding one of the thick, cold pillars waiting at the end of his fingertips.

The ground shivered again, and another crack sputtered through the ceiling. Dust fell onto Thor's face.

"What is happening?" he wondered.

"The palace is falling," Loki breathed, lifting the light even higher in the air, to reveal large cracks in the ceiling and the pillars. "Hela must have broken something in the foundations when she summoned that monster."

The floor beneath them heaved. Thor and Loki staggered sideways, and caught themselves. Rocks fell and smashed on the flagstones.

"Come," Loki beckoned to him. "We need to hurry."

"Why did you bring us here?" Thor asked as they trotted up the cracked staircase toward the throne room. "Why not take us right into the vaults?"

"That kind of magic won't work past this threshold," Loki answered breathlessly, jogging ahead of him. "We have to make our way on foot, or not at all."

Thor said nothing more. With Loki beside him, he trotted down the high steps and onto the floor of the throne room, the green light flittering ahead of them, just barely able to light their way, even as the surrounding darkness pressed in all around. Their feet hit the red carpet that led up to the throne, and they picked up speed.

Another _crack_ shot through the silence overhead.

The entire room trembled.

Loki slowed to a stop, warily looking upward, his light hovering by his shoulder. Thor stopped with him, feeling the floor quiver through his boots.

Then—

"Run!" Loki shouted, jerking on Thor's elbow.

That moment, the ceiling collapsed.

Thor and Loki broke into an all-out sprint, blindly pelting toward the throne even as the light bounced to keep up with them.

SMASH.

A huge piece of the ceiling crushed the floor behind them. Shrapnel struck the back of Thor's head and shoulders. To either side, pillars began toppling, careening and splitting, shattering onto the marble. The brothers leaped over the tumbling rubble, hurdling the fractured pillars, fighting to keep their balance as the floor lost its solidity and rolled like the deck of a ship in a storm.

 _Groannnnnn…_

"Loki, look out!" Thor lunged forward, grabbed Loki's cape and flung him aside. The next instant, stones crushed Thor's upper body, driving him face-first onto the floor.

"Thor!" Loki cried—

Thor's skull smacked the paving, his vision went red, then black. His hearing dimmed, his breath slapped out of him. He rolled, rocks burying him. Pain buzzed across his head and face like hornets. He couldn't feel his hands.

Muffled shuffling. Scraping and labored breathing.

A weight lifted off his back, then his shoulders. Then his arm.

"Oh, you fool," Loki gritted—his voice sounding like he was under water. "Idiot, moron—running headfirst into…"

Thor rolled onto his back. The entire right side of his face felt as if it had been scalded by a fire iron.

"Thor?" Loki gasped—and Thor felt him reach out and take him by the neck. "Thor, can you hear me?"

Thor coughed. He spat out hot blood, trying to shake his head—

"No—no, no, no, do _not_ move," Loki commanded—and Thor sensed him grimace. "Oh… _Oh…_ oh…"

"What?" Thor croaked, spitting again.

"Your eye is…" Loki shifted, and his knee bumped Thor's right hip. Loki's cold hands pressed Thor's face, even as Thor tried to open his eyes…

He couldn't open his right eye. And the vision in his left blinked in and out, unfocusing as the green light dipped closer. He could just make out the blurry side of Loki's fiercely-frowning face.

"My eye is what?" Thor muttered. Loki looked at him. His brow twisted, his mouth tightening. He shook his head.

"Your eye is ruined," he said quietly. "It looks…" He grimaced again. "It looks as though it was actually put out."

Thor's stomach rolled. He tried to lift his right hand—it blundered into Loki.

"No, stop," Loki insisted, shoving his arm back down. "Stop. I'm doing what I can. You're bleeding far too much."

Thor coughed again, swallowing blood.

"You were right, Loki," he managed, his lips slick.

"That would be a first," Loki muttered, wincing in concentration.

"You were," Thor insisted. "We are all going to die."

Loki stopped moving his hands, and frowned at Thor. Thor blinked his remaining eye slowly, feeling blood drip down into his beard.

"Now don't you start," Loki chided. "The rest of the ceiling hasn't fallen down on us yet."

"But it will," Thor reminded him, fumbling for his hands. "You need to go without me. Go into the vault, get the sword—"

Loki was already shaking his head.

"Don't be absurd. I will not leave you here."

The floor shivered again.

"You must," Thor said, baring his teeth and trying to sit up. "I can manage. Go on, go get it. Leave me here. That is an order."

"Oh, so now we're throwing around orders," Loki said distractedly, pushing Thor's hands away and reaching up to his face again.

"Do it!" Thor shouted.

"I will _not,_ do you hear?" Loki snapped back, fire blazing in his eyes. "I will not leave my brother here to die in the darkness. If I saved all of Asgard and the nine realms at the expense of your life, it wouldn't be worth anything. Now shut up and let me work."

Thor fell back against a stone, smiling through the pain that beat through his skull. Feeling hot tears mingle with the blood on his face.

"What?" Loki demanded, watching him.

"Nothing," Thor murmured, resting his hand on Loki's wrist.

Loki gazed at him another moment. Dust clouded down from the ceiling. The palace of Asgard let out another low death rattle. Loki's green light flickered. Loki glanced up at the ceiling, then back at Thor. Resignation in his grey gaze.

Thor firmed his smile, and squeezed Loki's wrist.

"Till Valhalla," he murmured. And Loki shut his eyes.

 _To be continued…_


	26. Chapter 26

STAVE TWENTY-SIX

"Where is the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain,

like wind in the meadow.

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills, into shadow.

How did it come to this?"

-Theoden King

The Two Towers

"There," Loki said through his teeth, then sitting back with a gasp of exertion, resting his bloody, shaking hands in his lap. Thor could finally focus his left eye, and look at his brother. Loki had a deep gash in his forehead, and blood marred the bridge of his nose and right cheek.

Thor got his arms under him and managed to sit up, leaning back against a large, fallen stone.

"My head isn't buzzing anymore," he noted.

"That's because I stopped the hemorrhaging," Loki muttered, wiping sweat from his face with his wrist. "Another few minutes and your brain would have been full of blood."

The walls quavered. Loki looked around. Thor did the same, fighting to adjust his depth perception.

"Well…We're trapped," Loki sighed. "The pillars and walls have fallen in around us."

"Can't you do anything with magic?" Thor asked him. Loki shook his head.

"These stones repel it," he said, gesturing tiredly. "That's their purpose—to protect the king from invaders."

Thor frowned. A dull thought crossed his mind…

"Protect the king…" he murmured.

"What?" Loki asked.

"…from invaders…" Thor frowned at Loki. "Remind me. Is there not a legend that a stairway was built beneath the throne, so the king might escape if the hall was breached?"

Loki stared at him.

More dust and rubble sputtered to the ground.

"I don't know, I never heard that one," Loki admitted.

"I think…I seem to remember Father telling me…" Thor grunted, turning over and pushing himself up onto his knees. "Where is the throne?"

Immediately, the little light darted off to Thor's left, and sped up a series of steps…

And stopped at the new ceiling, which was made of collapsed rubble.

But…

At the height of these stairs, Thor glimpsed the feet of the great throne.

And in the stairs right in front of it…

"Look!" Thor cried, scrambling to his feet. "Loki, look!"

"What is it?" Loki demanded.

Thor stumbled over the fallen rocks toward the stairs. Loki stood and followed him. The floor shook again, but Thor ignored it, falling onto his knees on the steps…

"Haha!" he crowed. "Look!" And he grasped a fractured piece of stair, tore it loose…

To reveal a chamber beneath the steps.

A secret stairwell.

Loki flung himself down beside Thor, and together they wrenched the broken stones away, just enough to create a hole large enough for them to fit through.

"Go, you and your light go first," Thor ordered, waving to him. Loki glanced at him, but sent the light straight through, and hopped in after it. Grinding his teeth against the pain in his bones, Thor clambered in behind him, and landed heavily on a set of spiral stairs.

"They lead down," Loki noted. "And if _this_ collapses…"

"We had better hurry," Thor advised.

"Mm," Loki agreed, and together they made their way down the stone, spiral staircase.

It wound around and around, growing darker and mustier all the time. Thor could hear the palace above them moaning in deep, wrenching throes. The little light dipped and swooped ahead of them, illuminating the grey bricks and patterned ceiling.

Finally, they reached the bottom, and entered a narrow corridor that led straight off into the darkness.

"I think…I think this is the escape path for the king," Thor panted. "It leads to the Asbru."

"But is there no other way to join it?" Loki asked, glancing furtively around even as they hurried on. "I swear we are right beside the vaults."

"We may be," Thor grunted, limping to keep up with him. "In fact, I think we…"

"Here," Loki called, skidding to a stop and facing the left. "Here, this door."

Thor stopped beside him, frowning at the thickly-barred door before them. He grabbed the handle and shook it.

It was locked.

"I don't suppose magic would work?" Thor winced.

"What do you think?" Loki asked flatly.

"Nothing for it but brute force, then," Thor muttered.

"For once, I agree with you," Loki said, setting his stance. "Shall we kick it or hit it?"

"Kick it," Thor said, setting his stance. "My shoulder may not survive if we try that."

"Whatever you say," Loki said, mirroring his stance. "On three. One, two— _three_."

Together, they kicked the door with all their might.

BOOM.

It shivered. The hinges rattled.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The force of their blows bashed up and down the corridor. Thor felt painful sweat break out on his face. Loki counted again.

Thor bared his teeth, and threw his entire weight at it.

The hinges snapped.

The door sprang open.

Thor and Loki staggered forward—and the little light zipped in past them.

"Come on," Loki urged, out of breath. They trotted forward, following the light down another narrow corridor that soon swerved to the right…

The two men stopped.

Not twenty paces ahead of them, the corridor ended in a wall. And there, upon a white marble platform that stood against that wall, lay a box.

A box of ebony wood, bound with iron, and adorned with uncut jewels. Dust cloaked it. An iron lock shut its mouth.

Slowly, Loki stepped past Thor, and approached the box. Cautiously, he stretched out his left hand as if toward a savage beast.

"Is that it?" Thor whispered.

"Yes," Loki breathed back. "It is."

The floor shook.

Thor's head came up. Loki's gaze flashed to the ceiling.

"We must go," Thor said. "Take the box—we'll use the escape tunnel."

Loki didn't argue. He dived for the box, snatched it up, turned around—

A large stone fell from the ceiling and shattered on the floor right in front of him.

He jerked back—

"Come on!" Thor cried, waving to him—

And as one, they raced out of the vault, turned left, and sprinted down the tunnel. Thor gritted his teeth, praying there had been no more cave-ins to block their way…

The tunnel wound back and forth, up and down sets of stairs, on and on through the darkness.

Then, a glimmer of light ahead.

"There!" Thor called, pointing. "What is that?"

"A gate!" Loki realized. And in a matter of moments, they skidded to a stop in front of a tall iron gate—through which Thor could smell the outside air, lit by low green torches.

"Does it—" he started—

Loki waved a hand—

The gate blasted open. It crashed to the ground with a deafening rattle.

"Good," Thor nodded. With that, they leaped over the fallen iron, the sword box tucked under Loki's arm, racing the only direction they could: toward the gate of the Asbru bridge.

Their footsteps rang against the faded light of the bridge as the deep shadows of the guardian statues fell across them. Soon, they would be able to look to their right and find the battlefield where their father, the Valkyrie, the dwarves, giants—and Sif—were fighting.

 _BOOM._

Thor fell to his knees. Loki did the same. The box went skittering out in front of them.

Thor threw himself onto his back, swarmed with confusion—

To see the heaven-reaching, flute-like towers of the palace of Asgard begin to crumble.

Slowly, the massive structure began to disintegrate, collapsing in on itself from top to bottom, wrenching one way, then another, giving way and splitting apart.

Thor stared, his mouth open, unable to make a sound, even as the thunder of its decimation shook the air and rolled through the earth.

"Get up," Loki tugged on him. "Get up, we must get clear!"

"Loki…" Thor choked, unable to tear his attention away from the horrifying sight.

"Get _up_ I said!" Loki bellowed. "Get up and run!"

Thor dragged himself to his feet, even as the outer towers tilted and toppled. Loki tugged on him again, and finally, Thor managed to start to run next to him down the bridge—which also began to quake.

They hurried past the giant golden guardians, Loki packing the box along with him, Thor grinding his teeth against the pain in his leg, head and arms. They flashed past the last statue—

Slowed to a halt, gasping raggedly.

A tall shadow stood before them, in the center of the bridge.

Tall, winsome and clad in the shade of night. A long cloak draping behind her. A helmet of razor-sharp horns upon her head. Her silvery eyes blazing through the darkness, her delicate mouth forming a low, satisfied smile.

"The resilient and noble sons of Odin," she said, over the rush of the black ocean surf below. "Behold."

Thor frowned…

Hela stepped back, and flung aside her cloak.

There, lying on their backs, their throats drenched in blood, their armor torn, their eyes open and lifeless…

Were his friends. Hogun, Volstaag, and Fandral.

Thor stared.

All the heat drained out of his body.

His mind screamed—howled like an insane man locked in a tiny cell.

But he could make no noise.

"You filthy, gutless coward," Loki spat through his teeth, his voice shaking violently. "You witless, maggot-infested cur. I will kill you with my bare hands, do you hear me?"

"Insults. The last useless stones thrown by a doomed man," Hela smiled, stepping directly on Volstaag's sprawled red hair. "For you _are_ doomed, Laufeyson—just as all of Asgard is. For there lies your last great hope," she pointed out to her left, following with her gaze the direction she indicated. "Your father has been mortally stricken. Your grand Valkyrie army, their wings set aflame, their bodies fallen from the cliffs and into the water. Your dwarves mown down like hay at harvest. The skulls of your giants broken."

Thor could do nothing but look where she pointed. And all he saw, upon that distant battlefield…

 _All_ he saw…

Was fire.

Fire, and rolling clouds of smoke.

And behind him…

The broken palace of Asgard, fallen utterly to ruin and dust.

 _To be continued…_


	27. Chapter 27

STAVE TWENTY-SEVEN

"From the ashes, a fire shall be woken.

A light from the shadow shall spring.

Renewed shall be blade that was broken.

The crownless again shall be king."

-The Lord of the Rings

Thor stared, his vision blurring, only absently realizing that hot tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped from his beard. He stood, his arms limp at his sides, seeing nothing but the red pulse of the faraway flames. He felt Loki standing beside him, unmoving—seething with a terrible, impotent fury.

"How do you wish to die, little princes?" Hela purred. "For, if you'll remember…you killed my son. Perhaps I should send a shaft through your brains, just as you did to him."

Thor sensed her take two steps toward them, heard her draw her sword.

"Kneel, dogs," she commanded. "Kneel and lift your faces to your queen. Look me in the eyes while I kill you."

Thor faced her.

Leveled a look at her, with his one remaining eye. Lifted his chin.

"You are not my queen," he bit out. "Nor shall you ever be. If my father is dead…" He took a deep breath. "Then _I_ am king of Asgard. And I will die before I kneel to you."

Hela's eyes burned. Her lip curled, and her cape rustled evilly behind her. She slowly lifted her hand to snap her fingers.

"Thor, take my hand," Loki hissed.

Without looking, Thor reached out—

Loki slapped his palm to Thor's. Their fingers interlaced, and they clamped down hard.

Then—

Loki pointed at the box. The lock snapped. The lid popped open.

Inside, upon a bed of blue velvet, lay a sword. Simple, its handle bound with leather, a single rune upon its hilt. Its blade lying all around it in a dozen pieces.

Loki lunged down and picked up the hilt.

The air thrummed.

"What—" Hela recoiled—

Loki lifted the sword up in front of his face. The shards of the blade followed it, swimming and flashing around the hilt as if caught in a rapid current. Loki squeezed Thor's hand even harder, breathing rapidly, his eyes wild. As if an electric current had passed through him.

And as they watched, the shards of the sword fell into place, like puzzle pieces, lengthening and strengthening the elegant blade, catching all the feeble light and even creating its own, shimmering like sunlight upon water. Loki raised it up in his left hand, as if forgetting where he stood, as the blade sparkled and hummed, and finally knitted itself entirely back together.

A shock shot through Thor's arm. Loki jumped—but he didn't let go.

And in that moment, a shield bloomed from Thor's hand.

Its handle swelled within his grasp, its face spread out over his arm, leaping into being in front of him, half as tall as he was. Solid but light, gleaming is if it had been forged yesterday; its shape a perfect, outward-curving circle.

At the same time, a jingling ringing resounded across both him and Loki. And armor began glittering up their arms.

Traveling up Loki's left arm like the rippling waves caught in the dawnlight, armor the color of pearl edged in silver embraced his forearm, his upper arm, his shoulder—

Spread across his chest in a mighty breastplate marked with the symbol of the Three-in-One. The armor encircled his collar, and wrapped around his head, forming a stunning, eagle-like white helmet bearing two flared wings. A cape of mingled silver and gold sprang from his shoulders and spilled like clouds behind him.

Thor only belatedly realized that the same thing was happening to him.

New armor, blinding as snow, covered his body and hugged close to him, steeling his back, strengthening his legs, binding near his shoulders, protecting his neck, resting around his head in the same kind of helm Loki wore.

Radiant light beamed out from them. It flooded the air around them, driving back the darkness, stretching up toward the sky, illuminating the rainbow on the bridge beneath their feet. A gust of warm wind swirled around them, billowing their capes, raking through their hair.

Slowly, with great precision, Loki lowered the point of his sword, lifted his head, and buried Hela with an icy glare.

She took a step back.

"Come, brother," Loki said through his teeth. "It's time."

Thor released a savage roar.

Loki echoed it.

And they charged at her.

Hela leaped back, her sword flashing to the ready.

Thor and Loki, perfectly in stride, pumped their arms together, holding fast to each other's hands. And, almost without bidding, Thor felt electricity begin to buzz and hum through his blood.

The two of them leaped into the air—

Loki swung his sword down to batter Hela's head—

Lightning exploded from the blade.

With a yelp, Hela sprang backward. The shaft of lightning blasted into the bridge. The air crackled, the wind spun.

Hela whirled, let magic fly from her hands—

And knocked Hogun, Fandral and Volstaag's bodies off the bridge. Limp as dolls, they tumbled into the surf below.

Thor tugged Loki close. Loki tucked the sword in—

Thor spun them around together, then struck out with his shield.

Hela's sword met it.

A deafening clap of thunder shuddered up Thor's arm.

Loki sprang out from behind the shield and lashed Hela with the blade, driving her back, back, back—

Hela threw herself at them and engaged. Her sword flashed and spat and snarled, skidding across the surface of the shield, tangling with Loki's sword.

But lightning built and built within Thor's chest, and it began writhing out through his arms. And no matter how ferociously Hela battered them, she was forced to take one step back, then another, then another…

Lightning tangled around the brothers like sparking vines, winding around them, leaping off their weapons, gnashing at Hela's weapon, at her arm, at her helmet, at her face. The blazing, chaotically-flashing blue light danced all around them, shooting out blindly into the air, binding around their legs. Thor could feel it humming through his muscles, making him move faster, faster, faster. Loki danced in and out of the cover of the shield, always keeping hold of Thor's hand, aiming deadly blows at Hela's heart that she only evaded by a hairsbreadth.

And the lightning bit at her like wild dogs, tearing at her skin and cloak, ripping at her hair. Until suddenly—

It tore off her helmet.

Her eyes went wide—

Thor bashed her in the head with his shield.

She fell.

Loki struck out—

And cut off her hand.

Her sword went flying off the bridge.

Hela collapsed onto her back. She threw up her left hand to ward them off.

"Wait!" she gasped, her eyes wild. "Wait. Stay your hand. I…I will tell you something. A great secret—a secret no one else knows. The truth of what is coming, not just to Asgard, but all the realms. Something far greater and…and more _terrible_ than you can ever imagine." She raised her eyebrows. "I can help you defeat it."

Thor bared his teeth. Loki set the tip of his blade against Hela's heart.

She flinched back, but gazed earnestly up at Loki.

"You know of what I speak, Laufeyson," she whispered. "Do not be a fool and waste this chance. You need me, or you shall never come through this trial alive."

"Silence, witch," Loki answered, jerking his chin. "I am Loki of Asgard, an Odinson." Loki closed his hand firmly around the hilt. "And I have walked paths you have never dreamed of, and seen things you cannot comprehend." He shook his head, once. "I do not need you."

He plunged the sword through her chest.

She screamed.

And Thor let loose a shaft of lightning.

It shot through Loki, down his blade, and into Hela's body. Her head thrashed back, her howling scream reached the heavens. The lightning enveloped her.

She caught fire.

Loki jerked the blade free, and backed away. Thor followed.

Red flames swam around her, consuming her, darkening her skin and extinguishing her eyes. More lightning split the sky.

And with a sudden burst of thunder, Hela Death-Shadow turned to ash, and the fire carried her away on the wind.

 _To be continued…_


	28. Chapter 28

STAVE TWENTY-EIGHT

"So comes snow after fire

And even dragons have their ending!"

-JRR Tolkien

The roll of thunder faded into the distance. A cold wind swirled around their faces and tugged on their capes. Then, as Thor watched, the shield he held diminished, shrank to the size of his hand, and disappeared within the ring. That same instant, his armor and Loki's began to disintegrate, rattling and ringing as it retreated and vanished, sparkling one last time before blinking into nothing.

And the glorious sword shortened and dimmed, until it lay in Loki's hand the length of a dagger, its edges winking as if with a secret.

Thor finally let go of Loki's hand. Loki swiped sweat off his forehead, breathing hard.

"We…" Thor began, frowning hard and turning to his right. "We have to…We have to go help Father."

"With what?" Loki asked. "This butter knife?"

Thor glanced at him.

"That butter knife saved our lives once," he said. "I'd imagine it would do the same again, if called upon."

Loki just grunted. Then, he stepped up beside Thor, and looked down over the edge of the bridge, into the foaming water.

"They deserved the funeral of kings," he murmured.

"No. I can't even think about that," Thor said swiftly, turning away as a flash of pain shot through his heart. "Not now, not ever. We have to go help Father."

He felt Loki gazing at him, but he couldn't meet that gaze. Finally, Loki nodded.

"Very well. Give me your hand again."

Thor closed his eyes, and held out his hand. Loki grasped it. Cleared his throat…

FLASH.

Ground thudded beneath Thor's feet. His eyes flew open.

The stench of sulphur, burnt hair and scorched grass flooded his nose and throat. He coughed, squinting through the haze of smoke.

All around them, the meadow lay in desolation. The grass had burned to black cinders, embers blazed through the shadows, smoke rolled in waves.

Bodies lay strewn like kindling.

"Father!" Thor shouted, his voice echoing over the crackle of dying flames. "Father!"

"Come," Loki said, that little green light zipping past their ears again. "Follow that."

The light streaked ahead of them, and Thor and Loki followed, picking their way through the charred corpses of dwarves and Valkyrie toward a burnt copse of trees, whose canopy was filled with glowing embers.

"Father!" Thor cried, catching sight of the gleam of golden armor. He flung himself onto the ground and shoved a large piece of something wood-like off of him…

Odin lay still, his eye closed. His helmet lay beside his head, Gungnir limp in his weathered hand. His white hair formed a halo. His two ravens lay dead on the ground, one above each of Odin's shoulders. His breastplate was cracked from top to bottom, directly in the center. His brow was peaceful, his mouth untroubled.

"Thor," Loki whispered. "Look."

Thor turned and blinked away his tears to see where Loki pointed…

And realized that the thing he had moved to uncover his father was a huge finger. And the hulking mass that lay lifeless at Odin's feet was the ruined remains of the monster Surtur.

"He killed it," Thor gasped, looking up to search Loki's face. "He killed it!"

"Yes," Loki murmured, his eyebrows drawing together. Then, he slowly knelt down beside Thor, tilting his head and gazing into Odin's tranquil face. Gently, he reached out, and rested his hand upon Odin's.

"Farewell Odin, son of Bor," he whispered. "May your spirit find its way to the halls of your fathers."

Thor broke down. His forehead fell onto Loki's shoulder, and he sobbed. With both hands, he reached out and feebly gripped the cold collar of Odin's breastplate, even as Loki turned carefully and wrapped his arm around Thor's shoulders. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, Thor's cries muted by Loki's tunic collar. Fires crackled and sputtered. And far away, the rumble of earthquakes restlessly disturbed the silence.

"Wait," Loki murmured, his head lifting. "You hear that?"

Thor didn't answer. Loki shifted back. Thor moved, and laid his heated face against Odin's armor, feeling his entire body go weak…

Loki stood up.

"Listen," he urged. "Do you hear?"

"Thor!"

Thor's head came up.

The cry was distant, strained. But unmistakable.

He gasped, leaping to his feet. His heart pounded, a terrified thrill shooting through his blood.

"Sif!" he screamed. "Sif, where are you?"

"Thor!" she shouted back through the veil of smoke. "I'm here! I'm here!"

Thor leaped forward. He kicked aside broken armor and fallen spears, plunging headlong into the black fog. Behind him, he heard Loki following as fast as he could.

Then, all at once, the smoke parted—

And there she was.

Leaning heavily against a rock, her left leg ripped and bleeding. Her black hair torn and wild, her cheek marred by ash. But when she saw him—

Her face illuminated with a radiant smile. She reached out toward him—

He caught her round the middle with one arm, wrapped the other around her shoulders, and kissed her.

She smelled of ash and sweat—but she gasped and bound her arms around him and pressed deep in reply. Her living body in his arms, breathing against him, her living mouth hot against his, her living hands finding the edges of his armor and not letting go. He broke free and kissed her again, then again…

And finally backed up enough to see her, to take her face in his hand, and smile brokenly at her.

"I love you, Lady Sif," he managed.

She laughed, tears spilling, and nodded. Then, her own left hand came up and touched his cheekbone, her face filling with grief.

"What happened to your beautiful eye?"

"I saved his life," Loki muttered breathlessly, saluting. "Good to see you, Sif."

"Loki!" Sif pulled back from Thor, hopped toward Loki—

And fell against him, flinging her arms around his neck.

He staggered back, but quickly recovered, and returned the embrace.

"Did you do it?" she gasped. "Did you defeat her?"

"Yes," Thor answered for him. "But…the palace has fallen. And…" He suddenly couldn't go on.

Sif backed up, still holding onto Loki's shoulders. She searched his face. Loki's expression filled with sorrow.

"Odin is dead," he said quietly.

Sif covered her mouth with her hand. Her gaze flashed to Thor.

Thor hung his head.

"What are we going to do?" Sif whispered.

"We need to search for survivors. Anyone and everyone who hasn't fallen to sword or spell," Loki decided. "And then…we have to leave Asgard."

Thor came around and stared at him.

"Leave?"

"What? Why?" Sif cried.

Loki shook his head, still holding her steady.

"You saw what I saw. The foundations of Asgard have broken. The entire realm is going to split apart," he said. "But I'm certain there are still a few ships left that haven't been destroyed."

"No," Thor stepped toward him. "No, there has to be something we can do."

"There is," Loki insisted. "We need to protect our people."

Thor looked at his brother, then at Sif.

Something inside him shattered. He turned, and gazed through the smoke toward the place where the palace should stand. The shining, immortal tower he had looked to all his life as a bearing, a marker…

As a beacon lighting his way home.

"Very well," he breathed.

"Here," Loki said, guiding Sif to Thor. "Take her. I must go get Jane."

"Where should we meet you?" Thor asked as he took hold of Sif's arm.

"The harbor," Loki answered, stepping back. "Don't leave without me."

And the next instant, he vanished.

 _To be continued…_


	29. Chapter 29

STAVE TWENTY-NINE

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the moon, east of the sun.

-JRR Tolkien

Jane sat on the bed, rocking back and forth, staring into the dying embers in the fireplace, counting up to a hundred in Norwegian, then back down, then up from one again. Her brow twisted dully, her lips moved soundlessly.

"En, to, tre, fire, fem, seks, syv, åtte, ni, ti…"

A sound.

She stopped. Her head came around. She stared at the door.

A sound outside.

She shot to a standing position, grabbed the footboard, her heart bashing her chest.

 _Knock, knock, knock_.

She frowned hard, clenching her jaw.

This door was invisible from the outside. Only people who knew there was a door here would _knock_.

But…

But if it was _him_ , wouldn't he just…

Wouldn't he just open it?

What if it _wasn't_ him?

What if—

"Loki?" The name burst from her lips before she could finish her thought.

The doorframe cracked. The door swung open.

Loki stood outside, knee-deep in snow. He breathed hard—and when he saw her, his eyebrows wrung together. Half his face was covered in blood, as were his hands, and the edges of his clothes were burnt.

Jane hopped toward him, letting go of the footboard.

"Are you all right?" she gasped.

Loki closed his eyes and let out a short, pained sigh…

Then came to her. He met her in the middle of the room and wrapped his arms around her, bending his head and pressing his face into her neck. Quickly, she encircled his waist with her arms and pulled him in tight, feeling his muscles shake.

A million questions assaulted her—but suddenly, she couldn't find the will to say any of them. Loki just nuzzled his nose against her skin, gripping her closer. The scent of burning hung heavy in his hair and clothes. Her brow furrowed, and she gently rubbed her hands up and down his back.

"My father is dead," Loki rasped against her neck—trembling and broken.

"Oh…" Jane whispered, taking fistfuls of his tunic. "Oh, I'm…I'm so sorry…"

He pushed his forehead against her pulse and sniffed loudly—and Jane felt warm tears trickling down her neck. Pain needling through her chest, she turned her face, and kissed his ear.

"Asgard has fallen, the entire kingdom's destroyed," he said, watery and unsteady, as he pulled back from her, moving his hands down to hold her waist. Tears streaked the blood on his face, and he closed his eyes.

"You mean…" Jane gripped the front of his tunic. "She won?"

"No," Loki shook his head, sniffing again. "No. We killed her." He blinked his eyes open and released a tight sigh, his brow twisting. "But what a cost."

Sudden terror grabbed her.

"Where's Thor? And Sif?"

"They're alive," Loki nodded, taking a step back but searching for her hands. She grasped them. They were dirty, and caked with blood. She held them tight.

"Where are they?"

"Back in the city," he answered. "We have to go find them. We're leaving Asgard."

"Wh…Isn't there anything we can do?" she cried.

"Nothing," Loki shook his head. "The great seal is broken. Hela saw to that. There's nothing keeping the realm together, now. It's going to fall apart like sand."

Jane fought to keep her head from spinning. She squeezed down on Loki's hands…

"Okay," she said, taking a deep, cold, bracing breath. "Okay. Let's go."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

 _Snap!_

Jane blinked, and looked around.

She lay cradled in Loki's arms, her own arms around his neck. He stood upon the wet stones of a wharf; low grey clouds swooping by far overhead, a wild wind off the sea gusting through her clothes and hair. The rolling, pounding sea frothed and foamed and beat against the stones, spraying into the air, chilling her skin.

Immediately, Loki began to walk—quickly—toward the high curve in the wharf, near the cliffs, where two large, elegantly-built spaceships stood with their ramps down. People hurried aboard both of them, carrying baggage and bundles. The lights on the ships blazed, and their engines hummed.

"Loki!"

There, beside the ramp of the closest ship, Thor stood with his arm around Sif's waist.

"What happened to your _eye?"_ Jane shrieked, reaching out toward him as Loki carried her closer. "Sif—are you okay? What happened to your leg?"

"Battle happened to both of us," Sif said wryly. She glanced up at Thor, frowning. "How much time do we have?"

A deep, terrible tremor coursed through the depths of the ground. Jane grabbed onto Loki with both hands again.

"What do _you_ think?" Loki said blackly.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted, as a wild-haired, dark-skinned man with a short beard and golden eyes started up the ramp. The man stopped and hurried toward Thor.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Help Lady Sif aboard," Thor instructed.

Heimdall slapped his chest with his fist.

"If you'll permit me, my lady," he said.

"Yes, of course," Sif said.

Heimdall bent, and easily picked her up, then carried her up the ramp into the ship.

"So, where do you propose we go?" Thor asked, turning to Loki. Loki raised his eyebrows.

"You're asking me?"

"Look how much time we lost the last time I didn't," Thor remarked.

"True," Loki acknowledged. "Luckily for you, I have a very clear idea as to where we ought to go—at least for our first stop."

"Where?" Jane wondered.

"A planet called Sakaar," Loki answered, addressing Thor. "I believe you have an old friend there. Someone named Bruce Banner?"

"Bruce?" Thor cried. "He is on Sakaar? How?"

Loki shrugged.

"Search me. But I know he's there. And I think we ought to do him the favor of taking him back to Midgard, where he belongs."

Thor narrowed his eye at him.

"The last time you saw Bruce Banner, he was in his monster form, and he smashed you into the floor. Why would you be so eager to help him?"

"I'm not," Loki said, gravity overcoming his features. "But you will be."

"What do you mean?" Thor stepped closer.

"You have to trust me," Loki answered. "And…" He adjusted the way he held Jane—pulling her closer. "We will need to leave Jane and Sif behind on Sakaar."

"What?" Jane cried.

"Why?" Thor demanded. Loki shook his head.

"I can't tell you," he said quietly. "But you have to do as I say."

"Your Majesty!" came a call from behind Thor. He turned.

Heimdall stood on the ramp.

"We're all aboard, sir!" he shouted. "Ready to shove off!"

"Thank you, we'll be right along," Thor answered. He faced Loki again, and pointed at him.

"We will speak of this when we're aboard."

"You'll get the same answers from me," Loki replied. "But yes, I'd rather be talk about it on a ship, rather than standing here watching the ground fall apart."

Thor didn't respond. Instead, he turned, and gazed up the cliffs, into the mist overhead, as if he saw something there that Jane couldn't. Absently, she noticed Loki doing the same thing.

And in the distance, over the rush of the waves, a seagull cried.

"Farewell," Thor murmured. "Home of my heart."

He pressed his fingers to his forehead, then held his hand out, palm up, and pressed it to his chest. Then, he lowered his head, made for the ship, and climbed up the ramp.

Loki stayed where he was. Jane turned and looked at him.

His pale, bloodstained face gazed upward, into the darkening sky, his emerald eyes fading to gray as the call of the gulls echoed against the cliffs.

"All my life, I yearned to leave it," he whispered. "To see all the realms at the far reaches of the universe. To find a foothold for myself. My very own kingdom." His eyebrows drew together. "And now, the place I resented is the very place I cannot bear to leave. Even though it's falling to pieces before my eyes." A breath shuddered through him. "I shall never see it again!"

Jane said nothing. Just lifted up, wrapping her left arm closer around his neck, and pressing her forehead to the side of his face.

The earth shook again. Loki's breathing quivered.

 _"_ _Sof þú vel_ _,_ " he whispered. "… _minn k_ _œrr_ _heimili_."

And with that, Loki dropped his head—as if wrenching himself away from the dying breath of a loved one—and carried Jane aboard the ship.

 _To be continued…_


	30. Chapter 30

STAVE THIRTY

Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me.

Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but

That is not for us to decide. All we have to decide

Is what to do with the time that is given to us.

-The Fellowship of the Ring

Loki stood at the base of the ramp of the ship. The dry wind gusted around him, and the garish sun glared against the surface of the abandoned landing platform.

Three days ago, they had landed on Sakaar, in an unobtrusive place to which Loki had directed them. Loki had then given Thor a charm, and told him where to find Bruce Banner. And Thor found him indeed—in his monster form—but the charm Loki gave Thor was able to change Banner back to his human form. Unfortunately, the noisy argument beforehand had caused planetary police to come storming in…

But Thor and Banner had both escaped with the help of a woman who called herself Valkyrie—though Loki knew the moment he saw her that she was merely a secretive Valkyrie-friend, like Lady Sif, who wanted no one to know her true name. And she had agreed to join them, apparently still tied by a thread of loyalty to the shards of her homeland. However, she had climbed aboard the _other_ ship, not wanting her business pried into by either of the sons of Odin.

Now, Thor, Sif, and Jane stood just inside the broad doorway of a large, empty warehouse at the other end of the landing platform. Loki had healed Sif's leg during Thor's errand, and the lady warrior now stood firmly on both feet, looking as beautiful and fierce as she ever had. Jane, much shorter, leaned against Lady Sif, the wind rustling through the soft blue dress she wore, and the edges of her brown hair. Sif, Jane and Thor spoke in low tones. And Loki watched all of them from a distance.

Thor put his hand to Jane's head and said something to her. She patted his hand, and smiled. Thor reached out with his right hand, put it around Sif's neck, leaned in and kissed her, twice. He made her promise something. Then, Thor turned, and strode back toward Loki, and the ship. He wore a black eye-patch over his missing eye, now. And Loki wondered, with a quiet ache in his heart, if this was how Odin had once looked in his youth.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

Loki's head came around. Thor stood beside him, peering keenly at him.

Loki shook his head.

"I have nothing to say," he answered.

"Nonsense," Thor scoffed. "Go say goodbye. You don't know when you'll see either of them again. And they're both waiting."

Loki glanced to where the two women stood, a dark coldness settling through his bones.

"Go," Thor nudged him. "I'll be aboard."

"Fine," Loki sighed, his heartbeat picking up. "Don't leave without me."

"I won't," Thor assured him. "Take your time."

Loki listened as Thor's footsteps clattered up the ramp. Then, Loki faced the women, and steeled himself.

He strode toward them, glancing back and forth into their eyes. He stopped an arm's length away, and inclined his head.

"Lady Sif," he said quietly. "Take care of yourself."

She stretched out her hand to him. He hesitated, then took it, and kissed the back of it.

"Please do likewise, Your Majesty," she answered sincerely.

He offered her what smile he could, gazing one last time into her dark, shining eyes.

"I will try," he said.

Then, he looked at Jane.

And suddenly couldn't think of anything to say.

She shifted, taking a breath…

But she didn't speak, either.

Sif backed up, withdrawing from Jane's grasp, and deftly holding Jane's arm out to Loki.

To keep her from falling, Loki quickly stepped in and held out his arms, and she took hold of them. Sif backed away, into the shadows of the warehouse.

Loki swallowed. His hesitating hands settled on Jane's hips. She pressed her palms to his chest, glancing down. As if she couldn't look at him. His attention wandered freely all over her features—her long lashes, her delicate eyebrows and nose, her soft mouth, the way her gently-curling hair rustled against her neck…

"Well…" she said quietly—and her voice sent a shock through him. She smiled a little. "Goodbye."

And she lifted her eyes, and looked at him.

He kissed her.

He brought his mouth down on hers, drawing in a deep breath of her, pulling his hands up and wrapping them around her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. She caught hold of his shirt and fell against him, kissing him back. And soon, she frantically wrapped her arms around his neck, he caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

They kissed and kissed, losing themselves in each other, and Loki fought to memorize every sensation, every scent, the warmth of her against him, the taste of her mouth, the sound of her breath, the feel of her fragile body in his arms.

The beat of her heart inside his.

And as his mouth lingered on her lips, pressing in deep, a fleeting thought crossed his mind, like the feathers of a bird.

Would she feel it when it happened?

Would she know?

He broke the kiss. He gasped. So did she.

He smoothed her hair away from her face, devouring the sight of her. Losing himself in her brilliant eyes.

"I dare not kiss you again," he panted, running his thumb across her bottom lip. "Or I'll never be able to go."

"Do you have to leave?" Jane whispered, searching his eyes and winding her fingers through his hair.

Slowly, he lowered her back to the ground.

"I've already told you. I can never leave you," he shook his head, and pressed her hand to his heart. "Even if the universe tears apart at the seams. You're right here. Always."

Tears fell from her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. Loki turned his head away and closed his eyes.

"Don't, please," he murmured. "Please." He made himself look at her again, cupping her face in both hands. "Let me remember your smile?"

"I can't," she gasped, shaking her head. He held her still.

"Please," he said again.

Her eyebrows drew together. Her eyes shone.

But then…

She gave him the most beautiful, shattered, shining smile he had ever seen.

And he returned it.

"Be brave, _alskling_ ," he whispered. "Goodbye."

And he let her go.

She faltered for a moment, then regained her balance. He took three steps backward, burning the sight of her into his memory…

Then turned around, with all the strength in his body, and marched toward the ship. And in half a moment, he was aboard, and the ramp closed behind him.

VVVVVVVVVVV

Thor stood on the bridge of the ship, gazing out into the vast, cold expanse of blackness, dotted by occasional stars. He folded his arms, listening to the quiet hum of the engines. All the rest of his people aboard ship were below now, resting.

Quiet footsteps behind him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

Loki stopped by his left shoulder, and also folded his arms.

"It's been so long since I've traveled this way. Through the starpaths, without the Bifrost," Thor mused. "I'd forgotten what it looked like, away from the light of Asgard."

Loki didn't say anything. After a moment, Thor glanced at him.

Loki's face was pale, his eyes keen as a blade. And he stared out the broad viewport. A chill ran down Thor's spine.

"What?"

"Look," Loki said, barely audible.

Thor turned…

To see a huge, black mass obstructing the stars.

And it was coming closer.

"What is that?" Thor murmured, his hands closing to fists.

"A ship," Loki stated, in a voice soft as death.

As they watched, the great ship drew closer and closer—so vast it soon filled all of space before them.

"Who is it?" Thor whispered through his teeth. "Loki—Who is it?"

Loki just took a step to his right, so that his shoulder brushed Thor's. He did not take his eyes from the ship outside.

"Brother," Loki murmured—calm and cold. "Do you trust me?"

Thor looked at him, his heart picking up.

"Yes," he answered. "I do."

Loki turned his head, and met Thor's eyes.

"Then trust me."

"Darkness took me,

and I strayed out of thought and time...

The stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long

as a life age of the earth...

But it was not the end."

-Gandalf, The Two Towers

FIN


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